


The Fellowship of the Evenstar

by Meriadek



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meriadek/pseuds/Meriadek
Summary: What if Arwen 'saw' the future and when she wakes in Rivendell the day after her wedding? What if she seeks out Aragorn well before the soldiers of the enemy are at full strength? What if the Fellowship of the Ring had been a secret, what if the Eye of Sauron overlooked them? What if the Fellowship never broke? Arwen is out to change the stars.





	1. Chapter 1

Dyslexia: Language disability, among my English grammar and spelling mistakes, I am not proficient in Elvish, sadly.

Disclaimer: Tolkien was a god.

AN: The Hobbit was my first real book and I have read the Lord of the Rings trilogy more times than most. Here we go -to Mordor.

Keynote: This story will be largely character development and adventure, not really a romance, no slash, no OCs, though of course, Aragorn and Arwen beautifulness. 

* * *

Chapter 1 - Evenstar

He was hers, finally, finally hers. The battle's won, the king crowned.

She lay in their bed and Arwen fought sleep -fought to enjoy this night a while longer, their first night of a long, long happy life together.

Aragorn would leave her one day, but not alone. She would watch over their descendants for as long as time allowed, and join her father when time ceased to have meaning. Perhaps there would be another war in the future, another people who needed her. But for now, now was the time for peace and new beginnings.

She traced her husband's jawline, and he smiled in his sleep, leaning into her touch. Her heart rejoiced.

Only death could part them now. Arwen let her eyes flutter shut, embracing sleep even as Aragorn's arms wrapped around her.

"Undómiel," her father's voice woke her.

Arwen woke with a start, reaching blindly for her sheets, " _Father!"_ she chastised.  _What was he doing in her and her husband's bedchambers?_

She glared up at him and he stared down at her with a bewildered expression.

He sat at the end of the sofa -sofa, not bed. "Daughter, what has happened?" he asked.

She looked down at herself, no sheets, no Aragorn, just a simple gown. She looked around and her heart sank, she was in Rivendell.

Her father's hand cupped her cheek, "Do not cry, Undómiel, I am here. It was a dream."

The world seemed to go very quiet, she could not hear the falls around them nor the birds chirping in the trees. "What year is it?" she asked softly.

The look her father gave her was not comforting, and when the number fell from his lips she could comprehend no more.

She ignored his questions, his concern, even as he drew her into an embrace, she let herself be held, her own arms remained limp at her sides.

It was years before the Fellowship of Ring would be formed, but not many. Just a few short decades. Sauron was active, the mountains rising, but the hobbits were still safe in their shire. Aragorn would be protecting them.

What felt like minutes to her, but was probably hours later, she pushed from her father's arms, "I cannot do this again! I cannot!" And once she had risen to her feet she could not return to where she had been, to who she had been. She was no untried elfling, and she would not stay safe this time at her father's behest.

"Daughter," her father said firmly, he had also risen to his feet, his expression dark, "Daughter, what will you do? Your path- it is suddenly dark to me."

She smiled then. Her path was dark, yes, perhaps it was, but perhaps there was much suffering that could be avoided. She had been crowned Queen of Elves and Men, her people needed her, and the path she would tread -was indeed dark, but she feared more her inaction than embarking on this journey.

She stepped toward her father and kissed his cheek. "I'm leaving," she said, "and I know not where this road will take me, only that it must be taken."

And like a river avoiding a stone, she swept past him, her quick steps taking her to her rooms to pack. She had a fellowship to gather.

* * *

Elrond reached out to Galadriel.

_Her path has gone dark, my daughter's light… I can no longer-_

_Do not despair,_  Galadriel cautioned,  _she will be the light in the darkness. Nothing you do will dissuade her._

 _I cannot see her future!_ He protested.

_Perhaps, you were not meant to see, only to answer when she calls._

_You can see her then?_

_Darkness has been approaching for centuries. Change has come, for the better, I believe._

_She's my daughter._

_Yes, but she is also the Evenstar._

Elrond's worry did not abate, and it was with great reluctance that he did not halt Arwen, her weapons strapped to her back, as he watched his only daughter ride off into places unknown.

* * *

AN: Please, reactions, thoughts, suggestions, or requests. This is new territory for me, help is appreciated more than I can express.


	2. The Prince of Mirkwood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> KEYNOTE: You can assume elves talking to elves are speaking elvish and are switching to whatever that people's dialect is, so while in Mirkwood they are using the Woodland Realm dialect. When there are non-elves around I will specify when they switch to the common tongue.

AN: After having written the first chapter to this story, the first Black Hole official photograph comes out as being the Eye of Sauron. I think the universe is conspiring against me, and I think I'm enjoying it.

* * *

 

Chapter 2 - the Prince of Mirkwood

Spiders, so many, many spiders.

Arwen had known the Children of Ungoliant had been encroaching on the Woodland Realm, but this was…

Her poor horse, it would be so much slower to travel on foot but this was a cruel road to travel. She sliced through spider after spider until they finally got the message that she, nor her mare, were prey.

The miles to the palace were disconcertingly quiet, but no sign of spider silk netted the canopy above them. She felt the eyes on her, she even spotted a few of the younger troops, but none called out a greeting nor she to them.

It was not until she reached the palace itself was she formally greeted, and formally recognized, "Lady of Rivendell, what brings you to Woodland Realm alone and unannounced?"

"I seek aid from the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas."

The guards exchanged glances, before looking her over again. They saw her garb, travelling clothes, not a gown, they saw the weapons, and protocol said she should be disarmed. But she was a lady, and what was more, she was alone.

One of the guards on the other side of the bridge darted into the palace, and minutes later the signal was given that she was welcome.

Dismounting, she gave her mare to a young auburn haired elf. Arwen patted the mare's neck, and she lowered her white furred head so Arwen could whisper a goodbye and blessing into her ear. The mare would either stay here or return home to Rivendell with a messenger. With what little information she planned to give the King of Mirkwood, doubtless, her father would be receiving quite the message.

Arwen was directed to a washroom and given 'appropriate attire' to greet royalty in, which she politely ignored.

* * *

Legolas was reading in his room, he would have prefered to be shooting arrows at spiders, assisting troops, and basically doing anything other than being trapped in the palace, but alas, there was to be a celebration tomorrow. And by his father's orders, he was not to reak of spiders or get caught up with business with his troops. His father dearly desired for him to find an elleth. Out of all Legolas's lovers he had never found that spark that had existed between his mother and father.

And speaking of his father, King Thranduil strode into his room without so much as a knock.

Legolas sat up, " _Adar_?"

The king went straight to his closet and pulled out one of his finer tunics and tossed it to him as he said, "Put this on."

Legolas stood, doing as ordered even as he asked, "What has happened?"

"Lady Arwen has come calling on you."

The young prince froze, one arm caught in his sleeve, "Lady Arwen? Of Rivendell? Elrond's daughter, the Evenstar?"

He knew the lady, spoken with her on more than one occasion, but he had also seen her with Estel. Why would she be asking for anyone else? For him of all elves?

"The greeting room," his father said stiffly. He would never say as much, for elves married for love, but an alliance of their families would be of great advantage, especially as enemies encroached on their territory and more and more elves journeyed over the sea.

So Legolas, to at least not make himself look a fool, checked his hair before departing his chambers.

When he entered the well lit room, he found Arwen perched on a seat by a window, looking as fair and beautiful as she ever had. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders and even in travelling clothes, her beauty could not be hidden.

But Legolas found that he was far more interested the weapons across her back and her apparent lack of an entourage. Had she truly come alone? Or had something terrible befallen her company on the road? Her clothes showed some signs that she had certainly gone throw more than a few spiders.

"Lady Arwen of Rivendell, Daughter of Elrond, welcome to the Woodland Realm," his father greeted.

She had stood the moment she heard him speak, though she should have heard the doors opening. "Greetings, King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm and Prince Legolas of Mirkwood." She bowed as an elf might, which was perfectly acceptable as she was not wearing a gown, and Legolas bowed in return as his father observed them both.

"What brings you so far from home?" King Thranduil asked. "You came on your own?"

"I travelled alone, yes. I need to speak with your son," she stated, voice lyrical but giving no hint to her feelings or her purpose.

"Need is a strong word," his father remarked.

She said nothing, and King Thranduil took it as a sign that she wished for privacy with his son.

Legolas had the growing sense that what Arwen wished to discuss was nothing intimate in the way his father seemed to be hoping.

"I shall allow the two of you to speak. And I will write Elrond to assure him you arrived safely."

Some fleeting expression crossed her face, too quick for Legolas to identify but enough to tell him that Lord Elrond had not known where she had planned to go.

Arwen bowed to his father once more and he left, his personal guard at his heels. She glanced at the guards still in the room, and Legolas made a motion with his hand. The room was empty but for them in moments.

Legolas gestured for her to return to her seat, and he sat down in a seat across from her.

"Arwen," he said informally, "why have you come?"

Her lips parted as if she would explain, but then seemed to think better of it. When she spoke her words were precise, "I need your help, Legolas. Middle Earth needs you. Time is against us and secrecy is of the utmost importance."

If he had been a different sort of elf, he would have pressed for more information, and he would have been disappointed rather than relieved that she had not come for a courtship. But he was himself, and he said simply, "My father will not allow us to depart before dinner."

She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, "This will not be a pleasant journey, my Prince."

"Whether it be my bow or my life, I am at your service, my Lady."

The blue of her eyes darkened, and in her gaze, he saw a world of sorrow and hope. "I fear that I may ask you for both when the time comes."

He laid a hand on hers where it rested on her knee, "I will follow you, wherever the road may lead."

She turned her hand over and squeezed his hand, taking the support he offered. They sat in silence until dinner, both lost in contemplation of the future.

* * *

King Thranduil was overjoyed by the evenings' turn of events. He knew Lord Elrond had worried for his daughter whose heart seemed to have been stolen by a mortal. He had feared the pain loving a mortal would bring to her.

Yet last Thranduil had heard, Arwen had been planning to take the journey over the sea. Looking at her now, her eyes full of life, sharing glances with his son...

His son, his beautiful son.

When the music started, Legolas was wise enough to offer her a dance. They should have been at odds. But her dark hair and his fair, their contrast was a wondrous thing to behold.

What life would it bring into this palace to see his son falling in love? The merest possibility of grandchildren had his heart swelling.

His son had requested to depart with her after supper, and Thranduil had granted it, not that he had the amount of power over his son Legolas so graciously gave the illusion to him having. But nonetheless, Thranduil approved of Arwen. Not that there was anyone in Middle Earth that could have possibly disapproved of Arwen. One fact remained, only good things could come of their time together.

King Thranduil sipped his wine and slept soundly that night.

* * *

Legolas led the way out of the Woodland Realm, and at Arwen's direction, they went Northeast.

"Arwen," Legolas spoke at last as the sun rose over the mountain range. "Where are we going?"

"You already know where we are going," she said without turning, her pace picking up as they reached the sightline of the main road. Backtracking only a little, they stayed out of sight that road and their pace increased. Soon, it was all Legolas could do to follow her over roots and down trees.

Legolas knew that the elleths were as skilled as their male counterparts, but he had not expected the Lady of Rivendell to be of such fitness. He himself was a trained warrior and these trees were ones he had grown up under. Though he shouldn't have been surprised that the world spoke to Arwen, that the branches seemed to avoid scratching her cheeks, that the ground itself padded the places her feet ever so briefly brushed.

Once their cover disappeared, she slowed, saying, "No one must see us approaching the Lonely Mountain but the dwarves."

Legolas was fine with avoiding the humans but, "Why do you want the dwarves to see us?"

"Because we've come to ask for their aid."

He could not keep the distaste from his expression, "From dwarves?"

"From dwarves," she agreed in all seriousness.

"Are you ever going to explain what this quest of yours is?"

"I will tell you all our quest entails once we begin it," she said in a low voice.

He gave her a sideways look before they pulled their hoods over their heads and became one with the landscape, he had been under the impression they  _had_  started. Arwen saw his look and pointedly disregarded it. So he glanced ahead of them toward the formidable mountain that had once, not so long ago, been home to a dragon, and he tried not to cringe. He might have prefered a dragon.

Dwarves, why did have to be dwarves?

* * *

AN: Poor Thranduil and Elrond, I highly doubt either would support their childrens' jaunt to Mordor, or even to the Lonely Mountian for that matter. Ah well, we've hardly begun. Reactions, feedback, death threats, mushrooms?


	3. The Nobility of Dwarves

AN: I have no desire to rewrite the books, they were so damn perfect it is an impossibility but we can have fun with the world, and the characters that perhaps didn't get enough pages or simply me wanting more of them.

Chapter 3 - The Nobility of Dwarves

Arwen was relieved to find a troop of dwarves before reaching the Lonely Mountain itself. They must have been mistaken for a human couple, for when they were waved forward to approach the camp setting up for nightfall, the dwarves' expressions that had been welcoming behind their beards became unguard and wary.

But then, very few would mistake Arwen as human if they looked closely, pointed ears covered or no.

"What brings elves from Mirkwood this far East?" a dwarf with a black beard woven with large gold beads greeted them coldly.

Arwen pulled back her hood and motioned for Legolas to stay behind her, he did, though she could practically feel the tension in his limbs as he strained not to reach for his bow. The prince would never strike unprovoked, but however equal an elf and elleth were, males elves had a tendency to be overprotective of their females.

"I am from Rivendell, I have come to request an audience with Gimli, son of Glóin," she said in the common tongue, the language feeling thick in her mouth.

Some of the dwarves chuckled under their breath at her formality as others grew quieter, the mistrust between their peoples running as deep as the mines of the mountain they stood in the shadow of.

"Rivendell, far beyond your home you wonder, elf. What do you want of Gimli?" the dwarf who had first addressed her asked.

"Elleth," Legolas corrected softly under his breath, she doubted any but she heard him.

"When I have spoken with him, he may share what he chooses with his people."

"When?" another dwarf repeated, and despite the beard, Arwen knew from the tenor of her voice that she was female. "When you speak with him? You assume we will let you. You presume much, elf."

Legolas made a step forward but Arwen raised her arm to cut him off, "I will wait here and trouble you no further, but I will go only when Gimli, son of Glóin dismisses me himself."

A murmur went throughout the group and soon whispers broke out and arguments, Legolas stood just behind her shoulder as they waited in stillness.

Soon enough, a ripple went through the group and a tent in the back of camp was revealed to them, Gimli marched out to meet them, angrier than when Arwen had last seen him. Of course, the last time she had seen him, Legolas and he were set on an adventure after the war had been won and the world brought to peace.

These were darker times, and Gimli looked at them with the suspicion of a stranger meeting an enemy race for the first time.

"Well?" he damned, planting his feet in the ground at close enough distance yet far enough that he did not strain his neck glaring up at them.

"I beg a word in private," she said.

Another dwarf snarled, "You think we will let you take one of our own to where you might do him harm?"

She held out her empty hands and said, "I am the Lady of Rivendell, only daughter of Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, and this is the Prince of Mirkwood. If we were to harm any of you it would be an act of war. There are far safer ways to create such a fraud between our peoples than for us to harm a dwarf within a stone's throw of the Lonely Mountain."

No one could argue this, not Legolas who frowned at the mountain and its hidden armies, nor the dwarves who at least trusted that no prince or lady would risk facing the joint force of military alone this close to their home. After all, it was a home they had won back from a dragon.

Though neither Legolas nor Arwen felt compelled to remind them that such a victory had come in part from elvish aid, the history was far more complex than that.

Gimli led them away from the camp, to point of hearing but still within sight of the others.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly.

"We are embarking on a quest that may save or damn all of Middle Earth, and I wish you, Gimli, son of Glóin to join us," she said, her voice grew stronger with the continued use of the common tongue.

His eyes narrowed on her, it was clear he did not trust her, just as it was clear that he wouldn't dare be as rude with her as he would have been if Legolas were the one speaking.

"Why would an elf ask for dwarfish aid? And why would you think I would answer?"

"Elleth," Legolas said between clenched teeth.

Both Gimli and Arwen acted as if the prince had not spoken as she answered, "Because your father was one who accompanied a hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, and it is to Baggend we return. If you do not join us then when our quest is done, only the dwarves will be unrepresented, for men, elves, wizards, and hobbits will be the heroes of firelight tales for a millennia to come."

Gimli said nothing to this, glaring at her thoughtfully. Emotions warred in his eyes, hatred for her people, the thirst for adventure, and perhaps worry for an old friend of his father's.

Legolas shifted on his feet, and Arwen knew that he too wanted more information. She had not told him where their quest would begin and she supposed that the Shire had not been among his guesses.

After a long while, Arwen threw in, "I guarantee that on the road there will be an abundance of goblins and orc to cut down."

Legolas gasped almost inaudibly, for he knew that the largest sightings of orc or goblins had been to the South. It was more information than she had wished to share so early on, but dwarves were a stubborn people.

But sure enough, it was the promise of bloodshed that enticed Gimli, his eyes brightening even as he scowled at her. Gruffly he said, "Let me go get my good axe."

As he turned to head back to his camp, she called, "Please, I beg you not share what we plan to do. No one must know our destination."

Gimli paused and asked only, "Tell me, is Bilbo Baggins in danger?"

"Greatly so, I fear."

"Is he in danger because of the services he did for our people? For my father and his brothers?"

Her voice was as solemn as his when she said, "In part, yes."

"Then I will say nothing, and we will depart when I return with my supplies."

She watched him leave and was again reminded of the nobility of dwarves. She listened to the world around her, the insects chirped and the breeze whispered in her, informing her that no one had overheard them.

* * *

Legolas was bursting to speak, to interrogate her. Hobbits? They were going to the Shire. Bilbo Baggins was in danger?

How did hobbits even go about making enemies? They were such small, thoughtless people. Though he knew the stories, Baggins was said to be a great burglar. He had stolen from a dragon, more impressively,  _survived_  a dragon.

But Smaug was dead and Baggins was old, old enough that he must be close to death himself. So what danger loomed? What danger stalked the Shire, well protected by stronger powers? Man and elves must fall before that part of the world came to harm.

Arwen led a gentle hand on his arm and he jumped. "I am sorry, my friend, but I will explain once we reach Baggend."

He swallowed the words he wished to say and said instead, "Estel patrols that far West."

Her eyes gleamed like starlight and the one word she gave him was filled with more emotion than he could rightly name, "Yes."

They fell silent and Gimli returned not long after. "If we take the river down to Old Forest Road then we can head straight to Rivendell then onto the Shire. I am assuming you being a lady and him being the princeling we will have no trouble crossing those territories?"

"We must aim for no delays, but no, the elves, neither Woodland nor High, will stop us."

Legolas coughed, "Your father may try."

Arwen raised her chin just a touch, "Trying is not the same thing as succeeding."

* * *

Elrond had spent weeks worrying about his daughter, so when a messenger came in regards to her where about and health, his hands were nearly trembling as they undid the seal.

His sons, Elladan and Elrohir, as well as the Woodland messenger, watched him warily.

The letter was signed by King Thranduil himself, but the message made no sense. He read it thrice before flipping it over looking for more.

"Is this all?" he asked the messenger with more force than he had intended.

The messenger, a fair elf with dark eyes, took several steps back, "I'm sorry, my Lord, that is all I was given."

Elrond waved to him and one of the guards, "Go, I will have a reply for you in a few days time after you have rested."

As soon as the messenger was gone, Elrond held the letter out to his sons, "Does that make any sense to you?"

Elladan took the message with a raised brow, Elrohir reading over his shoulder. As one, their eyes widened as they scanned down the letter. Elladan lowered the letter and Elrohir snatched it from him.

The twins looked at their father in astonishment. Elladan asked, "Is this a joke?"

Elrond sighed and sat on the sill, feeling suddenly old. Weeks of guessing, of worrying, of sleepless nights, and now this? "I have never known King Thranduil to have a sense of humour, and this… he would never, not about his own son and Galadriel's granddaughter."

"But Estel," Elrohir protested, "I know you had her half convinced to board a boat across the sea but her heart-"

"What is she doing in the Woodland Realm?" Elladan demanded.

"I have not the slightest idea."

"Why did she leave?" he pressed.

"She woke from a dream, she left in pursuit of danger."

"And you let her go?" Elladan asked in outrage, he and his brother had just returned from a scouting mission and had missed their sister's departure.

"I cannot cage her." Elrond frowned, taking in a deep breath and tried as he had tried a thousand times over these long days to  _see_  her. To his relief, he did see her, and dimly Prince Legolas at her side along with one other. "The letter does not lie, Prince Legolas and Arwen head toward us, toward Rivendell."

"But Estel," Elrohir repeated, "she cannot be courting the Woodland prince, I do not believe it."

"Nor I," Elrond sighed, though he might wish it. He could sympathize all too well with the proud and hope filled words King Thranduil had sent. "But no, she takes him into danger, and even now, she will avoid Rivendell if she can."

But he would not allow it. It went against every instinct to allow her to go in the first place, and he would not pass a chance to see her well, even if he once more could not convince her to stay or head farther West.

"Arwen went to Prince Legolas for aid," Elladan asked, his voice held pain.

"He is a fine bowsman and young," Elrohir said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"But why him? Surely if she needed help she would have come to us or even gone to Estel."

Elrond stood, and looked closely at the map on his desk. "The world changes, and in which direction I cannot tell."

But he had an impression of which way his daughter travelled, and she would not slip by him.

* * *

Navigating the boat down the river at night was not all that difficult for elvish eyes. Legolas wondered why secrecy was so important to this journey, and he wondered also if it was speed or secrecy Arwen desired most. For he knew as well as she that travelling the Old Forest Road would not be secret.

He cringed looking at the dwarf who had spoken little to them as Legolas navigated their small boat. What would his father think when he heard rumours that two elves travelled with a dwarf? He wondered if his father would even entertain the idea that it was his son and Lady Arwen who kept such company.

On the second day of travel, when they had hidden themselves off the shoreline, Arwen finally slept.

It was a relief to Legolas, who had been watching her push herself in a manner that worried him. Whatever urgency drove this quest seemed almost secondary in her heart. In her eyes was a look of such longing and heartache.

He wondered if Estel knew how much this elleth loved him.

"She isn't a typical female for elves, is she?" the dwarf asked in a low voice.

Legolas turned to face him, "No, she is not, she is the Lady of Rivendell."

The dwarf glared at him, "She is more than a title, elf."

He arched a brow, "More than you could possibly comprehend."

The dwarf bared blocky teeth at him, and got up, lumbering into the forest, mumbling about patrolling the area.

Legolas sighed, with as much noise as the dwarf made, it could hardly be called scouting. But perhaps his stomping would frighten away their foes, he thought charitably as he rubbed his temples.

* * *

They bought a small horse and one large horse before embarking on the road. Both stallions were fleet-footed and familiar with the road ahead. Though the road was overgrown from a decline in frequent travel, and goblins were said to lurk in the shadows, some trade still continued. And the goblins who were sometimes sighted were routinely driven back by the wood elves who kept watch over the forest.

Arwen spoke to both horses as Legolas paid the trader, a grizzled man who made his livelihood on this road.

Her body felt better for having finally slept, but her dreams had left her aching and worried. So much could go wrong, so much could be lost.

She allowed Legolas to sit in front and take the reins. Gimli used a fallen log to mount his stead -that if not for its breed, might be considered a pony.

They set off at a brisk walk, and once the horses were fighting to pull forward, they trotted at a pace that could be held for hours. Arwen was grateful the chestnut stallion they road had a smooth gate, as opposed to Gimli's energetic mount who rattled the dwarf and his belongings at every hoof fall.

"Do you delight in making a racket, dwarf? Or is the sound of birds and the breeze dancing between leaves so offensive to your ears that you feel the need to drown them out?" Legolas snapped at their grumpy companion.

The dwarf snorted, though the reins he clenched tight in his fists as if he feared the brown and white spotted horse would run out from under him, "Leave it to an elf to suggest that trees require silent travellers."

"As if you know what silent travel means, you breathe so loudly I could hear you a mile away, and your footfalls announce your presence like a knocking on the door."

"Doors?" Gimli asked with false surprise, "It is news to me indeed, that a wood elf understands the concept of a door. I assumed you all lived in hollows and slept on tree branches."

Arwen rested her head on Legolas' back and hid a smile, letting their bickering wash over her. She wondered if this was how their friendship had begun the first time. It gladdened her heart to know that two creatures at such odds would come one day to regard one another as brothers.

"Arwen," Legolas said after a time, long after she had lost the path of the two males' conversation. "Is the dwarf not horrendously loud?"

Gimli was loud, and the prince did, in fact, have a point about his breathing, however, her answer was diplomatic, "You both bickering like humans is, indeed, quite loud."

Gimli chuckled and the two were quiet for the rest of the day. Once the horses needed a rest, they retreated northward off the path, Legolas leading the way as this forest was truly his home and the trees welcomed his presence.

For the first days of their travel, they encountered little difficulties, and overgrown as the Old Forest Road was, it was a quicker path than navigating through the trees would have permitted them. And the underbrush could not grow very tall as the road sheltered by the trees blocking a great deal of sunlight. The canopy acting as a great hall they passed through, and Arwen thought that she would like to return to this road when the seasons were changing.

It was late one day, the sun not yet setted but the forest darkening steadily, that they finally encountered trouble.

Arwen tapped Legolas' shoulder, and she leapt off the horse. She scaled a tree and leaping from branch to branch toward the viperous voices of goblins.

Legolas had halted the horse, dropping the reins he reached for his bow. His first arrow was released before Arwen was over them.

Gimli road ahead with a roar, axe swinging. He split the skull of one goblin as Arwen dropped behind the troop. A dozen goblins, nearly half dead before they knew who or what they faced.

A few turned to flee and met the deadly kiss of Arwen's blade. The skirmish was over in minutes.

Gimli and Legolas observed one another, both surprised at how well their joint talents had played out in a fight.

Arwen, who was not at all surprised, whipped her blade off with the back of a downed goblin's tunic before resheathing it. Legolas brought the horse over to her, holding out a hand to her. Taking the proffered hand, she effortlessly resettled herself back into the saddle behind him.

Legolas and Gimli spurred on the horses, the silence between them uncertain yet less resentful.

They rested another night in the forest before continuing the road to the Misty Mountains. Arwen could only pray her father would let them pass Rivendell without much delay. There were few paths she could lead them down that would not alert him to her presence.

* * *

AN: Thoughts, requests, or reactions, pretty please?


	4. The Heart of Elrond

 

They had not made it halfway down the other side of the mountain when they found their group of three overtaken by a patrolling group of elves.

"Let us pass," Arwen demanded to the elves who she knew well.

But they looked at her grimly and when she saw her brothers approach she knew there would no talking themselves out of this.

"Sister," Elladan greeted in Sindarin, ignoring their dwarfish companion. "A word, and perhaps we will not hinder you long."

She dismounted, as did the twins and several of the other elves. One of the guards the reins of her house and Elladan led her further into the treeline away from the main party and her companions. Elrohir brushed her hand with hers in silent greeting as she passed him.

* * *

Gimli was not happy to be surrounded by so many of the elves in their territory, and he especially didn't like the one who glared at him and seemed to be the twin of the dark haired elf who had addressed Arwen as sister.

Gimli didn't know much of Sindarin, but even he knew some of the familial titles. Though luckily for him, it wasn't him who the twin seemed interested in, no, his full attention was on the arrogant, annoying princeling.

"My sister went to you for aid, did she, Prince Legolas?" Arwen's brother inquired in the common tongue.

An elf with manners, Gimli was beginning to like Arwin's kin.

The princeling answered cooly in elvish, and Gimli caught only the other elf's name, Elrohir of Rivendell.

"And you brought a dwarf to assist," Elrohir asked scornfully.

Gimli took back the mental praise, all elves were bastards, Lady Arwen excluded. "Lady Arwen requested my help, not the princeling," he growled.

Grey eyes turned to him, and where he expected scorn he saw only worry. The dark haired elf asked only, "Why?"

"That is between myself and the lady," Gimli declared.

Moments later, the strain of bowstrings and the unsheathing swords surrounded them. Gimli was suddenly surrounded murderous elves who would all gladly strike him down.

Beside him the princeling sighed in exasperation, and finally speaking in the common tongue, he said, "We are never going to get anywhere with you, are we, dwarfling?"

Gimli would have sworn at him but thought better of it as Elrohir began demanding answers to their purpose.

* * *

"Father, please time is-" Arwen was cut of midword as Elrond pulled her into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around him in return, resting her ear against his chest where his heart beat wildly. "I'm sorry," she said, the words seeming inadequate.

He held her for a long time and when he finally pulled back, he asked, "Where? Where are you going and what do you plan to do?"

"Father," she sighed, "I cannot-"

"No," he said more harshly than he had ever spoken to her before, "You can tell me or I will not allow for you to go."

She stiffened, stepping back from him, "I am not a child."

"You are  _my_  child."

"You would not stop either Elladan or Elrohir," she reasoned.

Elladan spoke then, "He might if he discovered we were travelling with dwarves. And it would be  _we_  because neither Elrohir or I ever travel alone."

Arwen glared at him, though she was happy to see him back from his own journey, the inconvenience of arguing with both her father  _and_ brothers did not bode well. The twins could be more stubborn than Father.

"A dwarf?" Father asked, before sighing, "What are you doing, daughter? First I receive a letter from King Thranduil that you are courting his son, and now you tell me you are travelling with a dwarf?"

"His name his Gimli, son of Glóin," she defended.

"Glóin," her father muttered, "one of the dwarves who travelled with Bilbo Baggins and Mithrandir to the Lonely Mountain?"

"Yes."

"Why his son? Why that dwarf, why do you need a dwarf at all?"

She wondered if he would allow an answer he or her grandmother might give, "You will know all when the time comes."

His expression said clearly that he would not accept it. "Even," he said slowly, "if I let you go, I will have you followed."

"And with the dwarf, there will be no way for you to lose us," Elladan said with a smirk.

She sighed, and thought what she could possibly say that would convince her father to let them go, staring at her brother, she had an idea.

* * *

Legolas was less than pleased to be surrounded by drawn bows, and mollified only a little that they were primarily pointed at the dwarf. And though he would never say, he was the tiniest bit impressed that the dwarf did not flinch under the interrogation in the slightest.

"Are you courting my sister?" Elladan or Elrohir asked, Legolas could not tell the twins apart.

"No," he answered honestly, "her heart belongs to another."

"Why is the dwarf with you?" he asked again.

"Because," Legolas said regretfully, "Lady Arwen requested he join us."

"And I also request that you lower your weapons away from my guests," Arwen said, emerging from the treeline with her father and other brother to either side of her.

The weapons were lowered at Lord Elrond's signal, he said, "You will all rest in my house, and are free to depart in the morning."

Legolas's felt his brows shoot up at this and he looked to Arwen questioningly, it couldn't be that easy? Legolas's father wouldn't have let him go if he had known he was going to be in the company of dwarves or a part of some deadly quest.

Arwen seemed to understand the question on her face because she said, "My brothers, Elladan and Elrohir will be joining us."

Legolas saw the joy on Elrohir's face at this news, and Legolas too was glad that two such fine warriors would be joining them.

They would be more useful than the dwarf anyways.

* * *

She found no comfort in her own bed that night, and when she wandered the halls her feet led her to outlook, one of the most beautiful views in all of Rivendell.

And it was there she found her father sitting on a bench, watching the moonlight glisten of the spray of the falls. Arwen did not ask, simply sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Her eyes closed without her want, her father wrapped an arm around her shoulders and whispered to her, "Return to me, where ever you go, live and return."

When next she opened her eyes the sun was cresting the horizon.

* * *

Elrond watched his daughter leave once more, his fear for her hardly lessening. He was grateful that her brothers were now with her.

But as he watched his three children ride into the distance, he knew only that what remained of his heart could not bear the loss of any of them.

* * *

Gimli was less than thrilled to have yet more elves joining them. Four elves to be precise. Two were Arwen's older brothers who road two either side of her like overprotective mother oliphaunts, and two other elves who rode their large horses behind himself and the princeling.

Gimli was regretting agreeing to travel with the lady, but the Shire was only a few weeks ride, or that's what he kept telling himself. They travelled mostly at night, and all the travellers they met assumed they were just another group of elves travelling to the sea.

When they did cross paths with others, the elves made sure to hide Gimli from sight. He wasn't sure if this was to keep up the appearance that they were indeed  _all_ elves running away to the sea, or if they were ashamed to travelling with a dwarf.

Either way, Gimli didn't like it and he would be happier once they reached the Shire. He wouldn't be the shortest at least.

* * *

Travelling with elves was usually not such a solemn affair. Even Lindir riding with was quiet. For Lindir not to sing or tell stories was like the sun rising without shining light on the world below.

Arwen would have raised her own voice, but her thoughts were eating at each other. Now that Aragorn was in reach, she wished nothing more than to rush to his side.

Her very flesh remembered him, and what she had seen- it had more than a mere vision. She was his, and he was hers. They were wed, and they would share a long life together, and she would die when he did. It was done, no more hesitation or waiting for Estel to realize the man he already was.

Arwen knew it would break her father's heart, but Estel would live longer than most and she would not depart this world without giving her father grandchildren to bring also into his heart.

This was, of course, if they could survive this war again. She did not mind terribly that her brothers stayed so close to her, for despite them being older, she worried for them as much as they worried for her.

"You know Father made us swear never to mention you to Estel when he was among us," Elladan said in their people's tongue.

It was rude to exclude Gimli, so she answered in the common tongue, "I know that Father disapproves of Aragorn."

She heard Gimli straighten in his seat, clearly grateful for the distraction as a week had passed with hardly a word shared between them all.

Elladan gave no expression to indicate that he was either annoyed or chastised by her, however, when he responded it was in the common tongue, "He loved you from the moment he saw you, but you, you were unsure of him."

"He was hardly twenty when we first met, a child."

Elrohir laughed, "And when he came back an uncouth ranger, he stole your heart."

Arwen, knowing her brother would continue to tease, especially as they had an audience of the Woodland Prince and a dwarf, decided to put her brother in his place. She whispered a true name to the wood, and Elrohir had to duck or be knocked off his horse by a branch, he still received a face full of leaves for his trouble.

Elladan hid a smile and no one else dared laugh. Though Gimli seemed quite startled that an elf had nearly maimed himself on a tree branch, not realizing it had happened at Arwen's beckon.

This was the most exciting thing to happen until they reached Bree, where they made camp outside the town's limits, nestled far enough away from the road that no pacer by would spot them.

Arwen hated to ask permission, but she did not wish to be followed. She approached her brothers and said, "I will be back in the morning."

"You are not going off into danger alone," Elladan declared at once.

"I won't be in danger, I swear it, there is nothing in Bree I cannot handle."

"You told us we were headed toward danger. Father said we were on a dark road," Elrohir said, "And so far you have led us on a well traveled road West. Your trip to the Lonely Mountain was more dangerous than this. We are not going to let you out of our sight so you can throw another surprise at us."

"Legolas and Gimli will stay here, please, Elladan, Elrohir, I just wish to speak with-" she cut herself off.

Elrohir leaned his shoulder against Elladan's in a familiar gesture, "You are off to speak with Estel."

Elladan frowned at her, "How do you know he is here?"

"I sense him," she said, though that was an understatement, her very being was pulling, tugging on her to go to him.

Elladan touched her cheek and rested his forehead against hers for a moment, "I do not disapprove of Estel, but my immortal heart breaks that we will not see the ages pass together."

Elrohir wrapped an arm around Elladan. "Perhaps not all elves were born to watch the ages." He touched her other cheek, "Your light always burned so bright, and you always cared more than you ought for the creatures of this realm. I would rather see you blaze with life until the end as opposed to seeing you dim with sorrows, I could not bear to see you waste away until the will to live left you."

She hugged them both, and they held her back. Kissing them both on their cheeks, she disappeared into the night.

* * *

Strider had bought a night at the Prancing Pony, a good a place as any to hear of news in Middle Earth. Whispers of unrest in the South were slowly growing, and he feared what that might mean.

Presently, he was tending his own horse in the stables. A fine mare of deepest brown with four white socks on her legs. He whispered the words the elves had taught him as he picked the stones from her hooves.

Strider did not sense his danger until the blades were at his throat. He was thinking of how he might use the hoof pick to his advantage when his assailant leaned against his back, and whoever this assailant was most assuredly not male.

He opened his mouth to speak when lips touched his ear and a familiar voice whispered in Sindarin, "Greetings, Aragorn, I hope you take more care with your life when I am away than this."

He froze, his breath seeming to stop along with his heart, "Arwen?"

The knives were lowered and made a soft snicking sound as they returned to their sheaths. He turned slowly to face her, not believing his ears or his eyes as he beheld her in the soft light.

"Arwen?" he asked again, "How are you here? Why are you here?"

She smiled, and it nearly broke his heart, he loved her more than anything in this world.

"Have you not missed me?" she asked, light dancing in her eyes like all the stars gathered together in the night sky.

More than he had words for, words which did not come when he attempted to speak. Her appearance was so unexpected so welcomed, he thought he might be dreaming. If he was dreaming he did not want to wake.

Seeming to understand this, she said, "I need your help, Estel, will you join me?"

"I would follow you anywhere," he said in Sindarin without thinking, "anywhere you bid me go, I shall go."

Arwen's smile again took his breath away, which was fine, because when she stepped toward him, and her lips met his, breathing was the least of his concerns.

* * *

AN: Okay, now the fun is starting, any requests or thoughts are welcome. I cannot thank the reviewers enough, y'all helping me through some rough spots :)


	5. The Hobbits of Baggend

 

Having him at her side again was like being complete. Though Aragorn himself still seemed a bit shocked at her appearance.

It was daybreak when they entered the camp, and Gimli greeted, "Well, thank the dragons, you didn't bring back yet another elf."

To which Elrohir replied, "Would it ruin your exuberance if we told you one of his ancestors was elvish and that he was raised in Rivendell?"

Gimli glared at everyone and everything around him. "When can we get on the road again?" he demanded.

"Tonight, no one must see us entering the Shire," Arwen answered before turning to Estel. "Estel, this is Gimli, son of Gloin, Gimli this is Aragorn II Elessar, son of Arathorn, and the true heir of Isildur Elendil's son of Gondor."

Estel gave her an odd look, as did her kin, it was one thing to name him, it was quite another to share his titles.

Gimli looked at Estel distrustfully, "He doesn't look like much."

"All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be Blade that was Broken,

The crownless again shall be king," Arwen recited.

Gimli laughed, "The time of such human lords has long passed, my Lady."

She smiled, "Not quite."

"What is our quest, exactly?" Estel asked, frowning slightly at her.

"She will not tell us, exactly," Gimli grumbled, "All any but she knows is that our business concerns hobbits."

"Halflings?" Elladan repeated, "What business do we have with halflings?"

"What is so dark and dangerous about them, he means," Elrohir questioned.

"Dark and dangerous?" Estel asked, "Nothing in the Shire fits that description."

Arwen shook her head, "Tonight, you have but to wait until tonight."

"I rather like the halflings," Lindir remarked, "Bilbo Baggins was quite delightful company."

"Well, you shall be seeing him again soon enough," Arwen said.

Lindir smiled sagely, "Somehow, I am not surprised."

The others did not seem to share this sentiment, but then none of them had met Bilbo Baggins of Baggand.

* * *

Samwise and Frodo were just sitting themselves down as Bilbo laid out supper when a knock came at their door.

"Now who could that be?" Bilbo asked.

"I'll get it!" Frodo announced, out of his seat quick as a rabbit. Not yet thirty-three, Frodo was young and believed that, as it had with Bilbo, an adventure would one day knock on their door.

This night, he was all too correct.

For the last thing Frodo could have possibly expected was six elves, one of them an elf maiden, a dwarf, and a very tall man who looked he lived on the side of the road.

* * *

Arwen had not considered how small hobbit holes could be, but was nonetheless pleased to discover it was one of the finest holes in the ground she had ever encountered.

Frodo looked at her with wide, wide blue eyes, "Hello Frodo Baggins, might we come in."

Wordlessly, the little hobbit stepped back, holding the door open, and they all ducked in as quickly as possible. Gimli was the only one among them who didn't have to dodge the chandelier.

Her brothers gave her such look that she could not help her lips from curling.

"Whose- oh," Bilbo started, standing stock still the hall. He looked up at all his guests who were nearly bent double, before he spotted Arwen, "My Lady?"

She supposed he meant it as a greeting, but was left at a loss for words at her appearance and her company. There was a lot of that going around.

Sam came into the hall next and exclaimed, "Elves! There's elves in the Shire!?" He seemed completely delighted, though he nervously ran a hand through his messy curls.

She smiled at him, "Indeed, Sir Samwise Gamgee. I am Arwen of Rivendell, Daughter of Lord Elrond, and these are my elder brothers Elladan and Elrohir. Also with us from Rivendell, are Lindir and Usna who are the fairer two, the fairest is Prince Legolas of Mirkwood. My betrothed, Aragorn II Elessar, though I believe he is known as Strider the ranger this far West. And the only one among us who might not beg you for a seat, Gimli, son of Gloin."

The hobbits stared at her and their esteemed guests utterly confounded. Bilbo was predictably the first to recover, "Well come, come, Frodo, Sam, go get more chairs, there should be enough supper for everyone."

As they shouldered into the dining room, Estel whispered in her ear, "Your father has not given me his blessing."

She said nothing, for in her father had given his blessing and would give it again. Besides, she had already given everything to Estel, to pretend otherwise was just that, pretend.

Not long afterword they were all seated, knee to knee arm to arm around the table. It was a tight space for so many big folk, but as was the way of hobbits, it was still a pleasant environment. Though Legolas who sat across from her between Elrohir and Gimli might disagree with her summation.

Gimli sat next to Bilbo, followed by Frodo, Samwise, Lindir, Usna, herself, Estel, Elladan, and Elrohir who sat on Legolas's other side.

"How's your father, Gimli?" Bilbo asked kindly.

"He's well. He and the others still speak well of you," Gimli said before biting into a piece of fish.

"And how is Lord Elrond?" Bilbo asked, seeming to direct the question toward Arwen.

"He has been better," Elladan answered for her, sending her a slight scowl.

She did feel a bit guilty about hurting her father's heart, but she knew that her venture from home would only become more worrisome for him.

Frodo was the next to ask a question, and this directed at Legolas, "You're a prince? So your dad or mom is a king or queen of elves?"

Legolas smiled and the inquisitive halfling, "My father is King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm."

Frodo and Sam looked at Bilbo whose smile brightened even as Gimli muttered, "Grumpy bastard."

"What was that, dwarfling?"

"Nothing, princeling," Gimli answered with false sweetness, an effect ruined by the half eaten bit of fish still left in his mouth.

"Odd company," Bilbo remarked, "Dwarves and elves don't normally travel together. And here I thought a wizard and dwarves would be my most remarkable houseguests."

"I will let everyone finish eating before I explain my purpose in bringing us all together."

Lindir started humming, and Bilbo grinned, picking up the tune. They did not burst into song outright but the atmosphere was suddenly lighter, and the small space seemed bigger than it was, more comfortable and homey.

Frodo peppered them all with questions, and Sam stayed quiet though listened raptly to every syllable uttered.

Elrohir, Lindir, and Gimli spoke most freely and seemed to become the object of Frodo's well-meaning interrogation. None were offended by the young hobbit's questions, he was little more than a child in most of their eyes. Yet despite his childish energy, Frodo was also an elf-friend, and the light in his eyes compelled the interest of those around him.

It was a burden on her soul, the task Arwen would ask of him. Though she swore to herself that Frodo and Sam would not be left to fend for themselves. The weight of the Ring and strain of travel would be their only trials. She would not allow despair to touch them, never would they have cause to doubt their companions.

Together to the end, and if they fell, it would be together.

When dinner was finished, and the dishes were away, all eyes fell upon Arwen.

Taking in a deep breath, she said, "Sauron is rising his forces in the South, and unless we act now, all of Middle Earth will be cast into darkness."

No one seemed to breathe, and for once, even Gimli was completely silent.

Elladan asked with an edge of anger in his voice, "If that is true, sister, then pray tell, why are we in the Shire, if the threat grows from Mordor?"

A shudder seemed to blow through the room at the name  _Mordor._

"Because, I had a vision, one so vivid and clear it was much more than a possibility." She looked at Bilbo then and recited:

"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie."

Bilbo clutched his pocket, and the others stared between themselves in confusion.

"Do not put on the Ring, Bilbo Baggins, whatever you do, do not put on the One Ring that drove men to turn against men, that turned halfling against halfling. That which drove Smegle, Gollum you call him, to crawl into to the depths of a lightless mountain. Driven mad, clinging to life and that which he calls  _precious."_

Bilbo swallowed visibly, "How do you know?"

She looked deep into his eyes and wished that she could heal the madness that had begin to take root there. "It must be destroyed, Bilbo, it must be taken back to were it was forged and cast away. As long as it exists, Sauron might still destroy this world."

Suddenly looking his age, the old hobbit reached into his pocket, and with a shaking hand, laid the gold ring on the centre of the table.

It seemed to beckon in the firelight, but Bilbo sagged in his seat, as if he were suddenly free, as if some great weight had been lifted from him. Surrounded as he was by friendly and powerful guests, the Ring was no longer his.

"We must take the Ring to Mordor, that is why I called to Legolas and Gimli for aid. Our quest will take us to the South, to the heart of darkness, and I cannot promise we will return."

Gimli and Legolas turned to look at one another, and as one turned to Arwen, the prince said again, "As I have said, you have my bow, my Lady."

"And my axe," Gimli added.

"No," Estel said, standing so suddenly he tipped his chair and bumped his head on the ceiling. He ignored the noise and the discomfort, turning on Arwen with a cold fury born of worry and panic, "No! You are not going to Mordor. We will do this for you, you cannot-"

She stood too, though she was careful not to hit the ceiling, "And why can I not? I have bested you more than a time or two with blade. It was I who the vision came, and what is more, I am over two-thousand years old, nearly three, I am free to decide my own fate."

"No," Estel continued to protest, this time in Sindarin, "Arwen, you have-"

She didn't let him finish, bent as he was, it was a simple thing to close the gap between them and place her lips on his. Arwen did not kiss him chastely, she claimed him boldly. He was hers, and she was his. He could not go into danger without her, and she would not be left behind.

When she pulled back he was short of breath, and nearly gasped, "That doesn't mean…" He swallowed, "-you've won."

Gimli laughed, long and loud, "Yes, my friend, it does."

"No, she has not," Elladan proclaimed.

"You have to take us on this journey too," Elrohir continued.

"Agreed," Arwen said amiably.

They blinked at her and Elrohir asked, "Just like that?"

She nodded and sitting back down she turned to Usna and Lindri, "From you two, however, I need you to return to Rivendell with a few messages."

"Dare we ask," Usna said darkly. He had yet to take his eyes from the Ring as if it was a snake that would strike when he looked away.

"Tell my father that Estel's sword needs to be reforged, and that Saruman the White has turned on us. Saruman has been infected by the enemy and will begin to tare down the forest around him to grow Sauron's army."

Lindir and Usna nodded, and Bilbo said, "I'll go with them, I cannot- I think my time in the Shire has come to an end."

"Bilbo-" Frodo said worriedly, "You can't mean that-"

"No, no, my lad, the years are catching up to me and with what looms ahead…" He sighed heavily, "I imagine the Shire will stay safe longer than most places. And I don't know that I can bare staying here, disconnected from the rest, when I know what moves in the world. I wish to see Rivendell again. Lord Elrond once said I would be welcome to stay as long as I like."

"And that offer stands," Arwen assured, "You would be most welcome among our people, Bilbo Baggins."

Lindir smiled at his small friend, and echoed warmly, "Most welcome."

"Then that's settled then," Bilbo said, determined, despite looking a bit shaken, and his eyes rounding in every direction but that of the Ring. "It might take me a day or two to pack."

"A day I think you can spare," Arwen said, "but the Fellowship of the Ring must leave tonight."

"Why did you not tell Father this when you arrived back from the Lonely Mountian? Why not when you first had your vision?" Elladan demanded.

"Because I believed the Ring needed to be on the road South before the enemy knew we were aware of them and moving against them. As soon as they know, as soon as they guess, or hear rumour that the Ring is back on the field than our quest becomes all the more perilous."

"Hense why secrecy was so imperative," Legolas said, as one finally finishing a puzzle.

"One problem in your grand plan, Arwen," Estel stated, "Who will take the Ring? Who will physically carry the Ring? Who among us has the strength to bear it and not be devoured by its corruption? I know that I am not that strong, not the strength that would allow me to resist that sort of temptation."

"Nor I," she said sadly, "I fear when Mordor approached or a great threat neared, that I would make an attempt to wield, which would be all our downfalls."

Elrohir, Elladan, and Legolas exchanged glances and shook their heads. Gimli looked at the gold as if mesmerized, then shook himself violently, and muttered, "No, no."

"I'll do it," Frodo declared, standing.

"Frodo," Bilbo said worriedly.

"I will take the Ring," he declared, "though I do not know the way."

"We will be with you," Arwen promised.

"This is insanity," Usna breathed.

Sam stood, "I will be there, Frodo will not be without his Sam."

"This  _is_  insanity," Estel stated, "We can't take two hobbits to Mordor."

"They could get there themselves," Arwen said plainly, "It is our duty to ensure that their way is clear and to keep them as safe as we are able. Us nine shall take on the enemy before they know their own doom, before they believe that the light in this world will always outlast the dark, rising, again and again, no matter how they try to smother it."

"Nine?" Legolas questioned, "Two hobbits, one man, one dwarf, three elves, and one elleth, that makes only eight."

"Our ninth is the wizard, Mithrandri will catch up to us along the road South, of this I have no doubt. Wizards are particularly talented in finding the most interesting or dangerous places to be."

"Gandalf is this sort, at least," Bilbo agreed.

The rest looked at one another and then Sam said, "So if we are leaving tonight, I suppose we best start packing."

Elladan pressed fingers to his forehead and said in Sindarin, "If we survive this, Father is going to kill us."

"No," Estel said, also in Sindarin, "He will kill me."

In the common tongue, Bilbo said cheerfully, "Nonsense, Lord Elrond wouldn't kill any of you, he has an eternity to get back at you all. He's too wise an elf to give up on such opportunity."

Not even Arwen was comforted by this statement, knowing her father as she did, the hobbit had struck the pony on the nose.

* * *

AN: Merry and Pippin will be in the next chapter but I just couldn't bring myself to take them to Mordor, even Tolkien didn't take them past Minas Tirith. Please share any reactions, suggestions, requests, or grand elvish poetry?


	6. The Road to the Misty Mountains

 

As Frodo and Sam packed to go, Bilbo brought out his maps.

"Which path do we take,  _Seer_?" Elladan asked dryly in the common lounge.

She tapped the small forest on the other side of the mountains, "Lothlórien, we will need our strength before venturing further South." She looked at Estel, "I trust you know better than I what paths we should take. Secrecy is important so that our enemy is not warned, but beyond Bree, it is the enemy itself we must be wary of."

Fire seemed to smoulder in her brothers' eyes. Since their mother had been lost to them, hunting orcs had all but consumed the twins. Vengeance weighed heavy on their souls, she wondered if this journey would heal them, give them a greater purpose, or if they might never recover from following this evil to its source.

Elrohir seemed to understand her expression, and even as Estel lost himself in maps, her brother said in Sindarin, "If you perish on this road, sister, we will not survive, nor will Father."

She held his gaze, she knew exactly what he feared, for it was the same anticipation of loss as a cold born in one's bones from listening to wind outside the cave, from watching the fire flickering. Though the wind never strips away the warmth from your skin, the knowledge of that cold seeps into your centre, reaching deep were no warmth can reach you.

Arwen knew that fear, had lived with it for years, that Estel might not return from the war, that Middle Earth would be lost, that her father or brothers might not return. "If we fall," she said in Sindarin, "then we fall together, there will be no time to mourn."

It was not a promise she could keep, but she would try to, to her last breath, she would try. She could not fail her people, elven or men.

"This will not be a pleasant road," Estel said, "and I fear our taking the halflings."

"They are stronger than you know," she answered.

Bilbo smiled at her, "Frodo nor Sam are ready, but for such a journey, none are."

Frodo came in then with a medium bag that Arwen knew he would not be able to carry long. "I'm ready," he said, excitement shining in his eyes. A nervous excitement, of one about to jump into sea before they have time to consider the tide or the nearness rocks beneath the glistening surface.

"You are not," Estel told him, "But we have no time to delay."

She shot him a glare and in Sindarin she said, "Do not undermine him so soon. You know not the strength of strangers or the untried."

He said nothing but his expression spook volumes about his doubts.

Frodo seemed disheartened by Estel's displeasure. Bilbo went to his heir, ignoring the big folk.

"Courage," Bilbo said to him, "is not learned without trial, it is felt when fear is at its utmost and you choose to go on not because you believe the fates will turn in your favour but because the person you wish to become lies ahead, not behind you."

Frodo hugged him then, and Bilbo hugged him back.

Frodo asked, "How will I know who I want to be?"

Bilbo held him tighter, "By knowing what you want not to be."

Sam came in then, with a pack nearly the size of him, and he proclaimed, "I'm ready! Whatever comes, from home and back again!"

Bilbo and Frodo parted, Frodo wiping under his eyes with kerchief Bilbo offered him with a wink. Frodo spoke to Sam, "Good Sam, as long as you are with us, we are ready."

Lindir was the first to take pity on the well-meaning hobbit, and began going through Sam's pack with him, sorting out what was truly needed and what could be left behind.

"But we need food!" he protested at all that Lindir set aside.

"We have lembas," Legolas offered.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

The prince explained, and Sam gave him such a look as if to say, 'I hear what you are saying, but it sounds awful and I don't trust it.' He was too cowed by Legolas to say as much, though, in the end, he managed to take more food than Lindir advised.

They departed from Baggend just after midnight. The ring secure on a chain around Frodo's neck, he was the last to look back and wave to the outline of Frodo's shadow.

Arwen feared what these two young hobbits, much younger than they had been the first time, would mean for them. However, she trusted them still, and she hoped that their youth would provide them with more reliance, for the optimism of youth was a force of its own.

"You must not put on the Ring, Frodo," she told him, "Not for any reason."

"Why not?" Frodo asked, "Bilbo put it on, it made him invisible and likely saved his life a time or two."

"Not invisible to all," she answered. "The nine human kings who wore rings, those doomed to die, have become as wraiths, neither fully a part of this world or the other. They are dark twisted things who do the bidding of Sauron. Though they have yet to set out in search, putting on the Ring would eventually lead them to us, putting us all at greatest peril or may very well end our quest before we have hope to finish it."

Frodo swallowed hard, "Right, don't put on the Ring."

"If the need compels you," she warned, "know that it is not your will, but the will of the Ring, the wraiths, and Sauron, compelling you to bring it to them."

Even in the night, she could see that he had gone ashen, that his eyes were too wide.

"Can't we just smash it?" Gimli asked.

Legolas gave the dwarf a withering look, "If we could destroy it with anything but the magma it was formed with, we would have no cause to bring the hobbits to the South."

"No," Elladan agreed, "we would be going with all the armies of the good world."

They were nearing the end of the Shire when the light began to creep along the horizon, and they made it into the treeline, with no halfling the wiser that elves or dwarf or ranger had entered their hollowed hills.

* * *

Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took, affectionately known as Merry and Pippin ran from Pippin's home to Frodo's and Bilbo's home after breakfast. They ran for the chance that they catch the Baggins before they finished their breakfast.

They had adventures planned for the day, adventures that required a good breakfast, or two.

However, when they reached Baggend they had found that both Frodo  _and_  Sam had departed on an adventure without them.

And as for Bilbo, he was packing up his belongings,  _moving_  out of Baggend.

"But why?" Pippin asked.

"I wish to see the elves again before my time comes," the old hobbit said.

"But why and have Frodo and Sam gone?"

"How should I know?" Bilbo asked, not meeting their gaze, "He was quite upset when I said I was leaving. He took off with Sam to the fields, who knows what they had planned."

"That doesn't sound much like them," Merry noted, anxiously watching as Bilbo arranged his packs by the door. "Did you have company over last night?" he asked, noticing an abnormally large pile of dishes, even by hobbit standards, by the sink.

"No, no, just Sam," Bilbo said too swiftly.

Pippin too had noticed something amiss, and before Bilbo could stop him, he darted into Frodo's room, throwing the only closed door in Baggend wide open.

Merry heard a loud exclamation and followed after Pippin, he came to a sudden halt, dumbfounded at who sat on Frodo's bed as if on a small bench.

"Elves!?" Pippin exclaimed, and pointed at the two elves, then he looked at Merry in astonishment, " _Elves_."

One of the elves crossed his arms, and he said, "It is not polite to point."

Pippin pulled his arm down quick as a flash, and not knowing what else to do, he bowed low to the elves and apologized profusely.

Merry bowed too, and no sooner than the elves had accepted Pippin's apology then the two young hobbits began pestering the elves with questions.

Finally, Bilbo shouted at them, "They are my guests, Lindir and Usna of the house of Elrond and if you do not leave them be, I will evict you from this home at once."

Pippin and Merry instantly quieted, and with bright faces and appealing expressions looked between the elves and Bilbo, awaiting more.

Lindir said to Bilbo in elvish, "If we leave them here, our secrets will not remain such."

Bilbo sighed dramatically, and said to his two uninvited house guests, "If you help carry my things, you can come with us to Rivendell. But I warn you, if you give away our destination or departure to anyone, tell anyone where we've gone, I will you throw you both down a river."

"What about Frodo and Sam?" Merry asked.

Bilbo exchanged a look with the elves, and Usna lied, "We believe they ran out ahead of us. If all goes well, we shall meet them on the road to Rivendell."

At this most satisfactory answer, Pippin and Merry worked with swift and eager hands to help Mister Bilbo pack up his most precious things.

They were not dismayed to be travelling at night, for they travelled with elves, who were fair lights to follow through the darkness. They went north, toward strange woods. The two younglings realizing too late what dangers there might be in the lands outside the Shire.

* * *

They made it to Sarn Ford the next night, Gimli and Estel went into the town to speak with the other rangers who patrolled the region and gather information. The elves and the hobbits snuck through the town and made camp beyond the scout rotation that Estel knew by heart.

"I didn't know hobbits could be as quiet as elves when they choose it," Legolas remarked as Sam poked at the stew he was making over their small fire.

Elrohir stretched his legs out in front of him, "You have not heard many of the stories of Bilbo Baggins then."

"I would not say that," Legolas said lips twitching, "But my father does not enjoy that particular event much. Not as the dwarves begin to thrive and a sickness creeps further into our woods."

"What are your woods like?" Sam asked, "I mean, besides the sickness."

"Well," Legolas began, "Our woods are large and old, each tree an identity, an individual in a web connected to the rest. Some say it one organism, but the trees sing in numerous and varied voices, so I do not believe it. The winds and breezes dance with the leaves, and the canopies often block out the sky, so all the forest is a hall, a home, a shelter to its own. And like the sea, the currents change, the paths reordering themselves, so that no venture is precisely the same."

"I would like to see it," Frodo said, leaning forward in his seat, hungry for the prince's every word.

"It is a beautiful wood," Arwen agreed, "and will be more so after this war I think. But we head to Lothlórien, and nowhere can compete with the loveliness of our trees."

Legolas scoffed but didn't argue outright.

"What is the difference between High Elves and Wood Elves, if you don't mind my asking, Lords and Lady?" Sam asked.

Elrohir and Legolas exchanged glances, but it was Elladan who answered, "There are various types of elves, and politics and lineages between us, however, in simple terms, the High Elves have more ties to the West, to lands across the sea."

Legolas nodded and picked up the explanation, "Where my people are more of this realm. We belong to Middle Earth, and are not as compelled to leave it." He smirked, "We're also considered wilder, more unruly and somewhat barbaric in comparison to our 'lighter' kin."

Arwen smiled at the prince over the fire, "My father says if it were possible for King Thandruil to go grey, he would look like Mithrandir now."

Elrohir laughed, a surprised burst of sound, "You two were born in the same age, our fathers bounded over the worry you caused them. And our poor mothers..." He shook his head.

She put a hand to her chest with all the dignity she had, "I was a joy."

Even Elladan cracked a smile at this, and said drily, "Yes, a joy. You had every elf and elleth between Rivendell and Lothlórien wrapped around your little fingers and you knew it."

Legolas chuckled, "My parents had to send out search parties for me, often."

Elrohir smiled brightly at Arwen, "Our sister would somehow go missing  _with_  the search parties. Coming back a few days later, speaking about tales of a hidden waterfall or a never before seen butterfly. Father nearly strangled a guard or two, but Mother would never allow it. She would simply send Father back out with her to refind the hidden waterfall. By the time the pair came back, his anger had been quite forgotten."

"I never thought of elf children as quite so mischievous," Sam remarked.

"All elvish children are a joy," Elrohir said, "by our first year we can sing and dance and run but true maturity isn't reached until our hundredth year."

Arwen shook her head, "Adulthood is reached by our hundredth year, but young adults still have much-" she searched for the correct words in the common tongue.

"Trouble to find," Legolas supplied happily, having been one such elf that caused quite a bit of trouble for much of his life.

"Wood elves, of course, being known for their lesser maturity," Elladan told the hobbits.

Legolas smiled at the dark haired elf, the kind of smile that said clearly that he would remember that comment, and get him back for it.

They were putting out the fire when Gimli and Estel returned to them.

"It is as it has been, whispers from the South, but knowing what Arwen has seen… the whispers mean much more to me than they did before. I did my best not to reveal our errand, but the rangers are my people, and they saw my tension."

"What did you tell them?" Arwen asked.

"He told them nothing," Gimli said, "but they are suring up their forces and are warier than they were, if such is possible for that lot. We should not tarry here long if we wish to go unseen."

Sam and Frodo exchanged looks, and though they wanted to be strong enough to go on, their legs ached, and their eyelids seemed to droop with tiredness. They were in fine health, but they were not yet conditioned to such travel.

"Get some rest," Arwen told them, "The rangers are not our foes and discovery from them may be as safe as telling none."

"They are a secretive lot," Elladan said. The twins travelled with the rangers often enough that their presence wouldn't have been questioned. And dwarves were seen often enough on the roads of Middle Earth.

It was the halflings travelling from the Shire,  _Lady_  Arwen, and  _Prince_  Legolas from the East that would raise some speculation. Though Legolas could perhaps be mistaken as one of Elrond's people if they did not know the description of the Prince of Mirkwood.

"So we travel along the Green Way and then to Sirannon," Gimli said with a sudden grin, "then to and through Moria."

"No," Arwen and Estel said together.

He let her speak first and she explained, "We must travel over Moria, not through it. As long as no one knows our presence, we should be able to cross that path unhindered."

"We might also freeze our ba- erm, we might lose the hobbits," Gimli recovered his crass language.

"We can carry the hobbits over the snow," she said, "it will take no longer than a day or two to cross the peaks."

Gimli pouted at this, "We would be welcomed in Moria."

"We will be welcomed in Lothlórien," Elladan said firmly.

"And we will not be travelling the roads," Estel said, "I know a path to Hollin. The terrain is rougher, and if we do not mind our feet we might easily be lost. But it is more direct and I know the way well enough."

Frodo asked, "What kind of terrain is it?"

Estel gave him a gentle look, the first softening Arwen had seen from him toward the hobbits, "It varies, but Hollin was where Lord Elrond first founded Rivendell. Sleep, Ring Bearer, and know that our first destination is not one of ill fortune."

She took his hand in hers as he sat beside her, knowing that though what he said was true of Hollin, they both knew it was no longer the haven it had once been. Hollin was no fortress.

* * *

AU moment: As this is my first Lord of the Ring fic, I made a major mistake, so I am ageing up the hobbits: Pippin 24, Merry 25, Samwise, 30 and Frodo 32. I see them all teenagers.

AN: Comments, suggestions, reactions, pretty pretty please?


	7. Trials West of Rivendell

Merry was certain the trees were watching them, the elves seemed unbothered, and Pippin didn't- well Pippin didn't notice much of anything but for opportunities to cause trouble. Bilbo sang most of the way with a great skip in his step, but Merry…

Merry didn't like the trees here, nor that they had been travelling off the road, too far off the road for his comfort. He could not understand why they were travelling in such secrecy. They were going to avoid Bree for goodness sake, going South through the Old Forest to the Barrow Downs. Merry could only hope they weren't going to the South Downs.

He could not understand it at all, not at all, no more than he could understand the trees.

It was as if they were whispering in secret to one another and that there was some dark secret in the heart of them.

On their second day in the woods, Usna showed the first sign that Merry had seen of unease. "I will go on ahead, there is a tall tree on a hill not far from here that I might be able to see beyond the tree line."

Pippin waved to Usna and Lindir decided to go ahead as well, "You can make camp here tonight, we will go on as the sun rises."

"They aren't that cheerful, are they?" Pippin asked Bilbo.

"Oh, they can be, but the times grow dark, and much is on their mind. I'm sure tonight we might persuade Lindir to gift us with a tale or song or two," the old hobbit said.

Merry helped Bilbo set up and Pippin went out to find water.

It was a while afterwards that Merry began to worry, "Where is he? You don't think he got lost do you, Bilbo?"

"He shouldn't have," Bilbo said with a frown, listening to the wood around them. The sun had set, but even underneath the cover of trees, there was still light to see by. "Best go check on him, doubtless he was distracted by some odd formation of trees that only his mind could place much interest in. I'll finish up making supper. Lindir and Usna will be back soon."

Reluctantly, Merry went out in search of his friend. The river wasn't too hard to find as he could hear the soft rush and lap of the waters.

He came to a clearing before the shore, with one great willow, whose limbs stretched tall and wide, its leaves weeping downward.

A great sleepiness overcame Merry then, even as he called out, "Pippin! Pippin, where are you?"

He was so tired, so very tired. Feeling drizzlingly drowsy, he sat down heavily on one of the great roots of the willow that was exposed from the ground.

He heard Pippin's plea for help too late.

The next thing Merry knew he was being pulled into ground; branch, root, and earth, slowly crushing him. Nothing in his life had prepared him for the fear such as he felt now.

Bilbo had said the elves would be returning soon, their only hope was that they found them soon enough.

* * *

"Where are the younglings?" Lindir asked as he returned to the camp where Bilbo had a pleasant fire going.

"They went to go find water," Bilbo said with a frown, he was standing on the edge of the firelight, gazing into the dark in the direction of the river.

"They should be back by now, Pippin should have been back near an hour ago."

Usna sighed, "I will go get them."

His eyes were well adjusted to the darkness, and when he came upon the willow he halted, feeling in his bones the wrongness of it.

Sickness, plant or animal, coloured the air, tensed the shoulders like anticipating a blow. It was one reason elves choose to live apart from the other races, not because they were so different, there was nothing wrong with difference, but rather it was the constant reminder of mortality. To be always reminded, in constant contact with the withering and dying, it gave definition to the passage of time and it wore on the heart and soul.

And this tree, this very old and great tree, had a rotted heart, even if its sprouts were green.

"Halflings?" Usna called.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when a willow branch swept out. He ducked, staring in amazement the tree branch that had meant to toss him into the river.

"What is it you wish?" he asked the tree in Sindarin.

He heard the yelling of the young halflings then.

As if the willow had not lips and tongue to speak but the will to, he heard a dark whispering that meant him harm as did it mean the doom of the halflings.

"Lindir, come! Lindir, I need your help!" He called in Sindarin out to the night, as he dodged another branch and lifted his feet in a dance to keep himself from being grabbed by the roots that roiled in the ground like serpents.

Lindir heard his kinsman and sprinted toward him, saying in departure to Bilbo, "Stay here."

Lindir came to a halt when he saw his friend flitting this way and that, avoiding the attack of a willow tree. "What in all of Middle Earth?" he breathed. Only to be answered by a branch sweeping his feet out from under him.

He hit the ground hard, but rolled to avoid getting pinned by the roots. "The hobbits!?" he asked Usna.

"The trunk," he called back. "I fear to attack, our blades were not meant for the blunt work of axes, and if we do, this soul has a mind to crush halflings."

A chill went down Lindir's spine, he wondered what twisted life this tree had lived to be motivated to take the life of another living thing. And what would they tell Bilbo, Lord Elrond, or Frodo if they said they could not protect two hobbits?

Lindir dove at the trunk, chanting songs of peace and safety that his kin in the Woodland Realm had long ago taught him. The willow swallowed him, and Lindir found the hobbits. He wrapped his arms and as much of himself around the tiny figures as he could manage, even as the roots crushed around them slowly. Lindir hardly drew breath between stanzas. He could not tell if his words made any difference but they weren't dead yet, so he took it as a positive sign.

Usna was growing frustrated with the circumstances, he would sooner set the entire wood ablaze than return to his lord without Lindir and all the hobbits he set out with. No tree would defeat them, but short of starting a fire, he was at a loss of what to do.

Bilbo had, of course, not followed orders and came after the elves. When he came to the willow and saw the mayhem before him, he did not run in as the elves had. Rather he recalled a song that Gandalf had taught him long ago when he questioned the wizard about the secrets of the world not so far beyond the Shire.

Bilbo sang out in a loud, clear voice:

"Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!

By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,

By fire, sun and moon, hearken now and hear us!

Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!"

He dodged the end of the tree branch that launched toward him as Usna called, "What are you singing for? Fire, go get fire, I think it is the only way."

But the elf was wrong, and Bilbo kept sing the verse, disquiet growing in his heart as he heard the young hobbits calling out in fright and the muffled voice of Lindir chanting verses that only the most ancient trees could decipher.

But then out of the gloom of night, came a honeyed song, strong and bright:

"Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling!

Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling.

Down along under Hill, shining in the sunlight,

Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight,

There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter,

Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water.

Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing

Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing?

Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o!

Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o!

Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away!

Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day.

Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing.

Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?"

Bilbo's heart was lifted, and he watched the strange fellow who was neither elf nor man, hobbit nor wizard, give a sharp wack to the trunk of Old Man Willow. The branches gave a rippling shudder, the leaves making a ruffling sound like sand pouring out from a glass bottle.

The branches stopped moving, as if it were a normal willow, immediately disproven by Lindir, Pippin, and Merry being spit out from the tree.

Pippin was sobbing and Merry was near hyperventilating. Lindir helped them to their feet, giving them comforting words. Usna came to help and nearly picked Pippin off his feet as they led them away from the willow.

Tom Bombadil gave them a friendly smile, but said to Lindir almost chidingly, "Never before has Old Man Willow captured an elf before."

Lindir frowned at him, and Usna outright glared, "He jumped into the base of the trunk."

"That was a foolish thing to do," Tom Bombadil said, grinning.

The look on Usna's face would have given pause to a lesser man, but Tom Bombadil was not a man and Bilbo stepped in before the elf could give offence to their rescuer.

"Thank you for your help," Bilbo said with sincerity, "It is well that Gandalf gave me your name. Who knows what would have befallen us had you not come."

Tom Bombadil laughed, and the darkness of the night retreated at the sound. "Ah, you are friends of Gandalf the Grey, well met, well met."

"Would you like to have some of our supper?" Bilbo asked.

"Ah alas, I must be returning home to my Lady, my dear Goldberry, I left her mid-supper. I must return, if you wish the help of Tom Bombadillo, then merely sing another verse for I am master of this wood and I will hear you."

And as quickly as he had come, he was gone, singing merrily as went:

"There his beard dangled long down into the water:

up came Goldberry, the River-woman's daughter;

pulled Tom's hanging hair. In he went a-wallowing

under the water-lilies, bubbling and a-swallowing."

By then Pippin had stopped crying, though he and Merry remained shaken as they ate their supper.

Nothing on their journey to Rivendell was as their tussle with Old Man Willow. And even as the road grew harder and seemingly longer, the young hobbits did not complain, for they wished to reach the halls of the elves without delay.

So terrible had their venture with the willow been, they might have turned back and never left their holes in the Shire again. But as turning back had meant a journey alone back through the Old Forest they could not entertain such a longing long.

Meanwhile, Usna and Lindir felt better about the news they carried about Lord Elrond's children, the doom of Middle Earth, and the broken sword they bore in their luggage, for such news it was, that few would request them to explain their dealings with Old Man Willow.

* * *

The sun was high above them as the Fellowship walked on toward the Misty Mountains. Hollin was empty now. No one called it home but for the birds and the small mammals. Even the wolves who roamed these lands found dens elsewhere.

"This land is cursed," Elladan said sadly, in the common tongue because Arwen had stopped answering when they spoke in a language the others could not follow.

"No," Arwen said, "this is a land abandoned, by our people."

"The elves here passed on from this realm," he said.

She shook her head, her hair spilling over her shoulders like a dark cloak, "We could be a part of this world one more if we choose it."

"Our time here has passed, the lights lies beyond the sea."

"Then cross it," she said coldly, "and when your content leads you to want for nothing, to strive for nothing, see if the tides will bear you back."

"Wanting for nothing doesn't so bad," Sam ventured to say.

Elladan ignored the hobbit, saying, "There is nothing here, sister, and though you may give up the ages, if the time continues as it has, like a river from the mountain, rushing, running, running in one direction, down, running dry... the great days of Middle Earth have passed."

"That elves and dwarves retreat into themselves, we fail to build, fail to teach our children that there is a future worth living for. Rather we look to the past, as if there were no way to even conceive of a better time, that nothing will be better than the days of old."

"Are you so sure there is a better way?" Elladan asked.

"You wish to one-day travel West with Father," she shot back, "the sea calls to you. Must that not be because you believe it is a better land?"

"It is," he said, voice dropping.

"None have returned, you have no way of knowing if they decline as well."

"Dwarves look toward the future," Gimli grumbled.

It was Frodo who sided with Arwen, singing in a clear voice:

"The world was fair, the mountains tall,

In Elder Days before the fall

Of mighty kings in Nargothrond

And Gondolin, who now beyond

The Western Seas have passed away:

The world was fair in Durin's Day."

Arwen saw the look of appraisal Estel gave the hobbit who did no bulk at the glare the dwarf sent his way.

"So what would you have of us, sister?" Elrohir asked.

"Live," she said, "I would have you live."

Elladan's voice was harsh and he switched to Sindarin, "Live? When you choose mortality and to leave us? And you think our people should stay and watch you depart beyond hope to follow?"

"You wish me to live without my heart?" she asked softly, her words also in Sindarin.

Estel looked away from her, his hands fisting at his sides.

"Father has," Elladan said, his voice as soft as hers now, "he stayed for you."

There was a long silence at this.

"We might remain in Middle Earth as well," Elrohir offered, his words lilting in the elvish tongue, "if you were truly Queen of Men  _and_  Elves, we might stay."

She knew what he meant, what he suggested. To take Estel into her heart and continue after him. It had occurred to her that she might, that she might see the fates of her children and her children's children's children. But that meant living without Estel, and the thought alone seemed to stop her heart in her chest. Such pain, how could she survive it?

Estel said nothing, either for or against it, though she knew that given the choice he would erge her to live an immortal life across the sea.

Her brothers' had given her their approval, but of the course of the last few weeks, they had grown closer than they had been since Mother's departure. She could see it weighing on them, the fear that she might not survive this journey, that even if she did, they would no longer have forever. It was a type of urgency that elves were not often forced to face.

Frodo and Legolas kept their thoughts to themselves whereas Gimli and Sam kept quiet because though they had not understood the words, they heard plainly their solemn tones.

They walked in silence until nightfall. The hobbits flinched at every wolf's bay and it was Estel who begged a story from them.

Frodo told them the story of Bilbo and his company of dwarves facing the mountain trolls.

Arwen smiled, resting her head on Estel's shoulder as she let Frodo's voice sweep over her, and the great deeds of those small and undervalued warm the firelight. They were wideout in the open, yet the stars above them seemed to give shelter and wolves knew better than disturb a camp around a fire.

"Oh, I have a song," Sam said after Frodo had finished.

"Well let's hear it," Frodo encouraged, "don't leave us in suspense."

"It's silly," Sam said bashfully, blushing and looking down at his hands.

"All the better," Gimli said, "marching with the rest of this lot has been akin to a funerary possession. Let's hear something cheerful. Our woes will not truly begin until we reach Lothlórien."

Elladan cut the dwarf a sharp look and Gimli rephrased with little repentance, "My apologies, Master Elf, I meant once we reach further South."

Frodo nudged Sam with a shoulder.

Sam stood, coughed to clear his throat then sang in a pleasantly deep voice:

"Troll sat alone on his seat of stone,

And munched and mumbled a bare old bone;

For many a year he had gnawed it near,

For meat was hard to come by.

Done by! Gum by!

In a cave in the hills he dwelt alone,

And meat was hard to come by.

-oOo-

Up came Tom with his big boots on.

Said he to Troll: 'Pray, what is yon?

For it looks like the shin o' my nuncle Tim.

As should be a-lyin' in the graveyard.

Caveyard! Paveyard!

This many a year has Tim been gone,

And I thought he were lyin' in the graveyard."

The song went on, Frodo, Gimli, Arwen, and even Prince Legolas were chuckling by the end. They clapped, and Estel praised, "Ah, a poet among us, I see."

Sam shook his head, "It was nothin' just thinking over what they must have looked like now. Those stone giants, forever waiting on dinner."

Arwen shut her eyes, breathing in the smell of the fire and the crisp breeze of the night. This journey was a dangerous one, but she was grateful to be here, to be surrounded by such a company.

* * *

Poems: All by Tolkien. As I reread the books I couldn't leave them out fully, I don't alter them so if for some perverse reason they bother you, skip'em.

AN: Suggestions, requests, reactions, pretty, pretty please?


	8. The Snows of Caradhras

Beta: Ahrnberg, many thanks.

Chapter 8 - The Snows of Caradhras

The twins were the least pleased to be travelling the Redhorn Pass, while Arwen pitied the orc who attacked them here. Neither Estel nor the elves would tolerate such an attack in this pass even if they faced a thousand foes.

When the Fellowship reached the mountains the road became more of a climb, and when they reached the first patch of snow Arwen stopped them all. Arwen had the hobbits put on spare socks from Gimli and Aragorn.

"Elrohir and I will carry the hobbits," she announced to which everyone protested, aside from Gimli, who as the third shortest of the company understood the true difficulties of the snow posed.

Finally, Estel said, "If they must be carried, then Elladan and I shall do it."

In response, Arwen tossed her luggage at him, which he caught with a muffled omph.

She knelt so Frodo could climb on. Gently and hesitantly, he did so. Standing, she found that his living weight, though far heavier than her pack, felt lighter and better balanced on her frame.

Sam was pink in the face and looked completely unsure of where to place his hands. He settled for resting his hands on the top of her brother's head.

Elrohir told the company, "If we are attacked, Arwen will be the first to run with the Ring Bearer."

It wasn't her intention, but he was right of course, and at this pronouncement, the males of the party seemed to settle, like birds adjusting their feathers.

In addition the socks, she had the hobbits wear her and Elrohir's cloaks. In order to keep the cloaks closed around both an elf and a hobbit, the hobbits had to hold the cloaks closed at the elves' necks, which served to cover the hobbits' hands. It was not perfect, but Frodo and Sam had all their extremities covered as well as an extra source of body heat. Even their faces they could drop to either Arwen's or Elrohir's shoulders. They were warm as they could be facing the start to winter over the mountain. Likely it would be Estel and Gimli who would have the hardest time with this route now.

And she was not wrong in her summation.

Frodo and Sam had begun to come up with a song for their trip thus far after the winds died down and the sun emerged to shed its cold light down on them. Arwen, Elrohir, Elladan, and Legolas, were all able to walk on the snow, hardly leaving a footprint behind, even with the added weight of the hobbits.

Estel, meanwhile, had to muscle his way through the layers of snow with Gimli wading through behind him.

Gimli grumbled, "Guess you're more human than elfling, hmm, Aragorn?"

Estel may have 'accidentally' pushed a faceful of snow back onto the dwarf.

Arwen caught Legolas' smirk and wished her brothers could be as the light of heart. But they were both grim-faced. This was cursed road to them, the beginning of a bitterness they had both let take root in their hearts.

The events of that long ago travel still grieved her own heart and she would gladly slay any orc along the road, but what concerned her more was the evil that laid in wait in Mordor.

* * *

"Rivendell!" Pippin cheered at the sight before them. "Oh, Rivendell, I could cry, no story or song is a great as one sight!"

Bilbo smiled, "Its beauty is only matched by the hospitality that awaits us."

Lindir and Usna were solemn, and it was Lindir who apologized, "And I fear such hospitality is not our priority this day. Bilbo, our friend, we must meet Lord Elrond at once. We will give those we pass word that you are arriving, do you remember the way?"

Bilbo chuckled, "Yes, yes. We three will go at our own pace, fly to your Lord. I do not envy you your task."

Lindir gave the elder hobbit a bow before departing with Usna at his heels.

"What task?" Merry asked as they began walking slowly after the elves who all but ran ahead.

"Never you mind," Bilbo said.

"Frodo and Sam will be ever so surprised to see us," Pippin said with a grin.

"They are not here," Bilbo said plainly, "I lied."

Merry halted, "What do you mean you lied? Where are Frodo and Sam?"

Bilbo stopped as well, "I can explain, but I would rather do it over drink and food."

"No," Merry said angrily, "You will tell us now. What trick have you played, Bilbo Baggins? Did you lie only so we would carry more of your things?"

Bilbo sighed and shrugged off his pack. He laid it gently on the side of the road, before sitting on a stone that overlooked the wondrous view of the falls and the elven stronghold.

"Frodo and Sam," he began, "departed on a quest. A quest of gravest secrecy and had you both stayed in the Shire, all of Hobbiton would be abuzz with Frodo's departure, not a full day after he had left. So myself and the elves thought it would be best if you accompanied us to Rivendell. That way the rumours would lead any unfriendly eyes and ears here rather than to the path they had truly taken."

"What path did they take?" Merry asked.

Bilbo sighed, gazing off into the distance, he said, "A path of great peril."

"How perilous are we talking?" Pippin asked, he huffed a laugh, "It isn't another dragon, is it?"

Bilbo did not laugh and his words chilled his young champions down to their toes, "It would be perhaps safer if they were facing another dragon."

* * *

Elrond had been anticipating grim tidings, but the fear on Lindir's face, not of the future but of how the news would be taken seemed to still Elrond's heart.

"Where is Arwen?" he asked. "Where are Elladan and Elrohir?"

Lindir bowed his head, "They head to Mordor, my Lord."

Elrond heard the words but could not comprehend them, "Mordor," he repeated, "What business could my daughter possible have in Mordor? She is not a soldier, she has not requested an army, how can she be leading a prince, a dwarf, and her brothers to Mordor?"

"And halflings," Usna said.

"What?" Elrond questioned harshly.

Lindir bowed his head again, "Estel, Frodo Baggins, and Samwise Gamgee are a part of their Fellowship."

"Fellowship," Elrond was quickly losing his patience, "for what purpose?"

Lindir took a visible breath, "The Lady's vision, in it she saw... Bilbo Baggins on his quest to the Lonely Mountain uncovered the One Ring. And her quest is to cast Sauron's ring back into the place in which it was forged. The Fellowship is to lead and protect the Ring Bearer, Frodo Baggins."

Elrond said nothing for a long time and when he finally spoke, his voice did not sound like his own, "My children,  _my children_ walk to Mordor."

It was Usna who said the next, "There is more, my Lord."

Elrond looked at him as if he could not see him as he slowly sat back into his chair.

Usna brought out the pieces of the sword Estel had entrusted him with, laying it before his lord, "Lady Arwen asks that the sword that was broken be reforged. She also warns of evil gathering in the South, Moria, Dol Guldur, and Isengard. The wizard, Saruman the White has turned traitor and serves Sauron."

"Is that all?" Elrond asked drily.

Usna and Lindir nodded.

"Get out."

They left, leaving the Lord of Rivendell alone with his thoughts and a broken sword.

Sorrow and rage such as he had never felt swirled in his being, his children,  _his children._  And all the while that sword seemed to taunt him, laugh at his fate. For he knew what that sword meant.

Even if his sons and daughter survived this fool's quest, he would still lose his daughter in the end to a single mortal lifetime.

One way or another, Undómiel, his Evenstar would fade from this world. Sorrow drowned his heart, his shoulders rounding, he knew not how to endure the fate that been handed to him.

 _Elrond,_   _Lord Elrond,_  Galadriel called in his mind,  _I feel your pain, what has happened? What has happened?_

His breath caught, and he fought to regain control over himself,  _She walks in peril, as do my sons, my children… Undómiel will not see the end of this age._

Galadriel was silent for so long he thought she had retreated, but then she offered him words of hope, such as it was,  _Her fate is not decided. Do not despair. Trust in your children, heed them. And before they face the darkness, they will come to my halls._

Elrond closed his eyes, taking what comfort he could from her words. "Sentinel," he called aloud, an elf peaked around the corner, his eyes wide, clearly having heard Lindir and Usna's tidings, "Summon Glorfindel to me."

Galadriel's thoughts seemed to embrace his own, prodding lightly,  _What tidings?_

His lips curled, but it was not a happy expression as he shared what Arwen had passed along.

On the other side of the Misty Mountains, Galadriel, The Lady of Light, summoned her own council.

* * *

Night had fallen on the peaks of Caradhras, and the fellowship had tucked themselves beneath a rock cleft. They had taken three cloaks to block off the wind. The snow was stacking and they would likely have to dig themselves out at dawn. The weather had turned foul, and Gimli had cursed the mountain, speaking of its hatred for elves and dwarves.

"Nonsense," Arwen said, "The mountains are indifferent to all. The winds would blow here whether we are here and no. The rocks fall as they will, as they have fallen for thousands of years."

Elladan and Elrohir said nothing as they took their seats against the wall beside Sam.

Frodo was already asleep against Arwen's side, the ring was beginning its insidious drain on him.

Aragon gingerly sat down beside Arwen and was startled, though not unpleasantly so, as she curled into him. She rested her head on his chest and the hand she did not have around Frodo she laid along his leg. Hesitantly, Aragorn placed an arm around her shoulders. She sighed, and not long after he spread his cloak over her and the hobbits, did she asleep. Trained and fit as she may have been, she needed the rest more than her brothers did.

Sam snuggled between his master and Elrohir, dropping off into sleep as well.

Legolas frowned down at Aragorn and Arwen, before taking a seat beside Elladan. It was chill, even without the wind buffering them, the stone cold beneath them, but with their joint heat building under their cloaks being used as makeshift blankets, there was enough warmth for them all to sleep comfortably.

Gimli sat down stiffly on the edge of the group, refusing to get into the pile.

"I won't bite," Aragorn offered.

Gimli shook his head, "I'll take first watch."

"There's nothing to watch," Elladan snapped, "within the hour we will be beneath a snow mound, no one could spot us, no one could walk in this, and even if they could, we would hear them."

Gimli sat stubbornly apart from the rest, and the elf warrior let it go.

"How long have you and Lady been together?" Legolas asked Aragorn suddenly.

Instinctively, Aragorn pulled her a little closer to him, "The start of this journey."

Confusion swam in the prince's blue eyes.

Gimli growled, "What is wrong? She hasn't done anything untoward with him since we've been in the company."

"No but…" Legolas trailed off, looking to Elladan and Elrohir.

Elrohir put it into words, "Of course she has not, our sister  _is_  a lady. But the Prince of Mirkwood is right."

"Right about what?" Gimli asked.

Aragorn looked down at the beautiful elleth in his arms, wondering what in the world he had done to deserve her.

"She behaves as if they were already wed, as if she were no longer a maiden but a bonded soul," Elladan answered, giving Aragorn a look that was not exactly friendly.

"She found me," Aragorn said in his own defence. It was the only thing he would say on the matter, to question Arwen's… to question her status was to question her honour, and Aragorn would have no part in disrespecting, either by entertaining others questions on the subject or by disregarding custom.

"You are not sure of her," Elrohir challenged.

Aragorn glared at him, he loved the twins as if they were his own brothers, but not even from them would he tolerate an ill thought of Arwen. "I have never doubted her."

Elrohir leaned over the hobbits, brushing a lock of her dark hair behind her delicately tipped ear, "I mean, that you are unsure if you will wed her." She stayed asleep, though she buried her face against Aragorn's tunic.

His heart seized, "Once I would have done anything to court her, but I was young, I didn't understand what her loving me would mean."

Elrohir's face softened, but Elladan pushed, "But her heart appears to be already yours, would you disregard it?"

Unconsciously, Aragorn felt himself curl around her, "No," he said, and the next truth he spoke was the doubt the twins had spotted. His confusion and the conflict warring in him, "but if she chooses immortality over me, I would let her go."

"Would you encourage it?" Legolas asked.

Aragorn shut his eyes and whispered, "Yes."

"Then that explains her behaviour, if resting her head on his shoulder is what you people call 'unmaiden-like' behaviour," Gimli said.

Aragorn and the elves looked at him.

Gimli grinned at them, and shook his head, "Oh elves, always children at heart, eh? She's trying to seduce the ranger. Seduce you so that the choice to give her up will not be an option."

The dwarf's words hit Aragorn like a slap. Elleths were not known for that, not overtly so anyway. Elleths were known for coyness and leading their love interests on a chase, they were rarely the hunters. And looking down at the elleth asleep against his side, he realized that he had been well and truly hunted.

He should not have been so surprised, she was Lady Galadriel's granddaughter, Lord Elrond's daughter, her mind and heart were own.

But loving him would be the death of her, and that knowledge was all but unbearable. It was selfish to love her.

He shared a look with Elladan and Elrohir, and he saw only understanding in their eyes. Therefore, it was Legolas who delved into the argument the siblings had been having, "Loving you, Aragorn, does not necessarily equate to her passing from this age."

"Yet another reason to never envy elves," Gimli remarked.

oOo

They did have to dig themselves out of the camp, but the night of sleep had done them wonders. All except for Gimli who had never joined the elves and the hobbits who had pressed close to one another in the darkness, and thus the dwarf had been too cold to sleep.

Which was probably the reason for the endless stream of muttering and grumbling, and the reason why when Elladan offered him lambus bread he had simply bared his blocky teeth.

The wind seemed to have died down, but the snow was deeper than ever. Legolas scouted ahead and came back with good tidings that not far beyond their wall of snow was stone that had been blown clear of snow drifts.

"We can walk now, my lords and lady," Sam offered.

Elrohir obligingly knelt so Sam could stand on his own two feet. Arwen was more reluctant to release her charge, Frodo was still tired and blurry eyed.

"Perhaps after we get down the steeper sl-" her words were cut off as the stone beneath her gave way.

"Arwen!" several shouted and Sam screamed, "Frodo!"

Aragorn didn't make a sound, but dropped to his stomach, skidding on the ground to catch her arm.

The world had narrowed to elegant hand in his, Arwen looked up at him with hard determination gleaming in her starcast eyes.

"Frodo, climb," she ordered.

"No," Aragorn commanded, "Elladan!"

Elladan needed no more instruction than that, half laying on Aragorn's back he reached over him to his sister.

She reached her free hand up to him, and Elladan pulled her and Frodo up, Aragorn steadied her, and when the stone beneath them began to further erode, Elrohir yanked them all back so they fell back in an ungraceful heap that half slide, half rolled down the path a ways, Sam tripped over the mass of bodies and was swept along for the ride.

When they slid to a stop, Aragorn managed to sit up first, his heart pounding as he checked Arwen over.

"I am alright, Estel, I am alright," Arwen said.

The twins and hobbits were standing to there feet unharmed, Frodo was very much awake now.

Aragorn was the one shaking. He cupped her face between his trembling hands and gazing into the light of her eyes, he felt the full weight of what they were posed to lose in this venture.

He wished with all that he was that Arwen had stayed in Rivendell, that this quest he was on was to return to her. Wished that she wasn't here now, wished she had played the female waiting in safety for her men to return with victory, because if he lost her on this road, if she died…

There would be no point to anything. Without Arwen, he would not be able to see any other light in this world.

And yet he knew he would still ask her to live on without him, even if he himself would never be that strong.

Arwen laid her hands on his face "Estel?" she asked softly, still kneeling on the ground with him.

He kissed her, knowing now that she was his heart and without her, he would perish.

Gimli, son of Gloin had been wrong, Aragorn had taken after his elvish ancestors after all.

"How do I get across?" Gimli called down to them, he and Legolas being the only two left standing on the other side of the path.

Aragorn broke the kiss, and looked up to see them. Without waiting for permission, the prince grabbed hold of Gimli by the army and with a mighty heave, tossed him over the gap. Legolas nimbly leaping over it after him.

Arwen let out a soft laugh, and leaned up to whisper in Aragorn's ear in Sindarin, "One day, those two shall be the best of friends."

Aragorn simply looked at her, wondering in what alternative universe such a dwarf and elvish prince would become friends.

* * *

AN: As a note, none of my stories are abandoned, and I appreciate all feedback and reactions! Thank you to those leaving reviews, special shout out to ghostcrab311 !


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Long chapter! :D Also, I am messing with the timeline again, if you do the math it is less than five years, but again, fanfiction.

Chapter 9 - The Lights of Lothlórien

They were approaching the Golden Wood when trouble finally found them. Arrows rained down on them from behind. The first volley struck Frodo who had jumped to push Sam behind a boulder.

Shockingly, they appeared to bounce right off the hobbit's back. That had been a story Arwen had missed on the original Fellowship's retelling of the war.

Everyone managed to duck behind the trees, except for Gimli who took a glancing shot between his helmet and shoulder. Legolas, Elrohir, and Elladan scaled the trees, turning invisible to their enemies as they picked off the orcs one by one. Estel went to the hobbits and helped them deeper into the wood.

Arwen went to Gimli, putting a shoulder under his uninjured side and helped him toward the river as fast as they could manage. His legs were unsteady, which was a poor sign because it meant the arrow had been loaded with poison. They made it to the bank of the river before the dwarf collapsed. Arwen helped him to the ground, saying, "Hold on, Gimili, hold on."

She could heal this, after her mother's attack she had become nearly as obsessed with learning how to counter-act poisons as her brothers had taken to orc hunting.

Stripping off his helmet she found that the arrow had torn not through his shoulder but the start of his neck, close to an artery that pumped close to the heart. And he was losing blood fast.

"You're going to be alright, just stay awake."

Gimli grunted in response, staring up into the leaves as if in a daze.

She sprinted to the river emptying her water pack and refilling it with the blessed water. Running back she knelt at his side and flushed the wound, she repeated this thrice, and on the third pour, he was shivering involuntarily, his lips turning purple. The water was freezing and he was going into shock from the poison and blood loss.

She did not so much hear her kinsmen in the branches above them but felt their presence. Gazing upward, she spotted Haldir and his brothers, "Rúmil," she called, then asked in Silvan for the herbs she needed.

Rúmil disappeared as smoke caught in a strong wind. She held a cleanish scrap of cloth to the wound, any poison on the surface had been washed away, it was the remaining drops making its way to his heart that concerned her now. This poison had been especially strong. "Just a little longer, Master Gimli."

"You're the most beautiful Lady I have ever met," Gimli sighed, "And I have met elleths before you."

"Thank you," she said, worrying at his airy tone, "and you are the bravest dwarf I have ever met, and I have met dwarves before you."

As if he had not heard her, he said, "If I was Aragorn, I wouldn't let you go for the world."

"He won't," Arwen promised. They were bonded, and whatever Estel told himself, they would be together.

"Hobbits are strange folk," Gimli mused, "Like dwarves in some ways and like elves in others. Though they are not great warriors, Sam and Frodo have not complained hardly at all on this long journey."

"It is never good to underestimate the small folk."

Again he spoke as if he had not heard her, "The halflings are least like humans, though perhaps more like human children."

Rúmil appeared at her side then with a handful of the herbs she asked for. Taking the herbs and rolling them in her hands to breaking the leaves, she pressed the bundle to the side of Gimli's neck and began to chant. Her gift came to her in a wash of warmth and light.

Gimli's eyes widened and he looked at her as if he were seeing a sunrise for the first time.

She pushed her power into him, imagining the light following the paths of his blood, sinking into his muscles, and filling his heart.

Gimli gasped and even Rúmil let out a small sound. Though it was rumoured her healing powers were nearly that of her father's or grandmother's, she had rare cause to use such abilities in the haven of Lothlórien in front of her Eastern kin.

She felt the last of the poison dwindle away, it stood no chance against her magic in the short amount of time it had to attempt to take root. Even still, she felt light-headed kneeling there on the ground. Gimli sat up, and not having the words, he pulled her into a hard hug. Arwen hugged the dwarf back. When they parted, they found themselves surrounded by a troop of Silvan elves.

Gimli tensed but Arwen placed a hand on his shoulder, and in way of explanation for speaking in Elvish, she said, "Not all here speak the common tongue."

And then she spoke in Silvan to the elves. Haldir offered her a hand up and welcomed her home.

Her brothers and the prince joined them soon after, joining the discussion Silvan. The small band of orcs had been defeated.

Gimli stood to his feet, he looked steady and for once, not uncomfortable being outnumbered by elves. He must have caught Haldir say Moria because he interjected, "Where did you say the orcs were coming or going?"

"They came from Moria," Haldir answered in the common tongue, "They have taken shelter in the dwarfish halls, but it would be foolish to battle them there. Evil whispers come that there are darker forces that yet dwell deep in those mines."

At this news, Gimli looked distraught, "No, that is not well to hear. My kin had a party set to travel to Moria to reclaim it."

"When?" Arwen asked.

"A month or more after you came to the Lonely Mountain."

"You went to the Lonely Mountian?" Haldir asked, his eyes going wide.

"She went alone to the Lonely Mountain," Elladan added in Silvan, his tone of disapproval clear.

"No," Legolas said in the common tongue, "She went alone to Woodland Realm, I was with her when she went to the foot of the mountain."

Arwen ignored them all, "Gimli, your kin are perhaps still on the road. We can send out messengers to warn them."

"It has been long since we had dealings with dwarves," Haldir said also in the common tongue.

"They are our allies," she said, "Speaking of which, how are the hobbits and Estel?"

"I sent them on ahead," Haldir said, "They are safe and welcome, I have never met halflings before, they are strange folk. Though I cannot say that I fear them."

"You will give them no cause for you to see them otherwise," she said.

Haldir raised a brow and switched Silvan, "Is that a threat or a warning?"

"Neither," she said, "the good and the innocent have nothing to fear from hobbits. Now, I would like to see them and discover why arrows bounce off their backs."

* * *

Frodo thought that these were the most beautiful trees he had ever seen. Even the weight of the Ring could dim his curiosity and awe for them.

"How do you say the trees are beautiful in Silvan?" he asked Aragorn who had spoken with ease to the elves in the trees.

Aragorn smiled down at him, and Frodo saw that the shadows in his grey eyes had retreated, easing the strained worry in his face. He looked like a fair lord rather than the ranger he had first met in the Shire. The words he shared were lovely and lilting, both more refined than the Sindarin Elvish West of the mountains, and yet, wilder, like a mountain breeze in winter clean yet somehow fragrant.

Frodo repeated those words and immediately adored the language. He had read Silvan before but had never heard it or spoken it. He wondered if along the road Aragorn and the elves would teach it to him and Sam.

The rest of their Fellowship caught up to them, and Legolas laughed in delight and said first in the common tongue, "Yes, Master Baggins, they are." Then in Silvan, "The trees are beautiful."

"Are you alright?" Sam exclaimed, looking in horror at the blood on Gimli and Lady Arwen's hands.

"Aye, lad, I'm fine. The Lady healed me," Gimli said.

"So you're a healer like Lord Elrond then?" Frodo asked Arwen.

She nodded, "I am, though my father has several millennia of knowledge more than I."

"I am Haldir," an elf warrior introduced himself, "And these are my brothers Rúmil and Orophin."

Frodo greeted hello in Silvan, for he had seen the word written, yet his accent was terrible, so he switched back to the common tongue to say, "I am Frodo Baggins and this is Samwise Gamgee."

Sam bowed his head, "It is an honour, sirs."

Haldir smiled, "We welcome back our kin and Estel, and we bid welcome to the halflings. You may be among the first who have seen our Golden Wood. But I fear we cannot allow the dwarf, friend or no, to continue, not without either our Lady's command. We must insist he wears a blindfold later on our path."

Lady Arwen glared at him, "He comes, freely and seeing."

"He is a dwarf," Hadir said, "No, absolutely not."

"It is my will that he be allowed to enter unhindered, with hospitality and warmth," Arwen declared, "If the Lady of Lothlórien objects, then I shall answer for the choice."

All the elves were quiet.

Smiling ruefully, Haldir said in Silvan, "So be it." And then changing to the common tongue, he said to Gimli, "If our Lady slays yours, it will be your sorrow to bear, dwarf."

In answer to this, Gimli drew his axe, "Don't you dare try it, you tree farting, squirrel brained, delusional  _sprite_."

Hadir said nothing to this, only smirked before leaping into one of the trees.

Gimli growled and Estel came up behind him, patting him on the back, "Put the axe away, Master Dwarf, they mean us no harm."

Arwen sighed, then helped Sam up the rope that was thrown down for them.

Elrohir winked at Gimli before following his brother upwards.

It was Frodo who took pity on him, "Gimli, the Lady Arwen and the twins are Lady Galadriel's grandchildren, Bilbo told me so. The Lady of this wood would never harm them."

Gimli ground out in Dwarvish, "I. Hate. Elves." And then he climbed the rope, becoming the first dwarf since the Days of Durin to freely enter the stronghold of the Silvan Elves.

Legolas took Frodo's hand to help him onto a branch. Pointing up to the canopy, the prince said, "Come, there is something you must see."

Climbing the branches, Frodo was able to behold the golden leaves contrasted against the cobalt of the sky, and the phrase in Silvan that he rose in his breast, in his very soul, and spilled from his tongue in song; "The trees are beautiful."

And there on would a part of him always dwell in these trees, forever longing for the beauty of Lothlórien.

oOo

They camped in the trees that night, and Frodo found the oddity of sleeping above the trees to be unnerving, no matter how much he liked them. Sam slept better than he that night.

In the morning, they continued walking until they came to a river that they had to cross on ropes.

Other Silvan elves waited for the across the river. One shot an arrow toward them that had a rope tied to it, which Haldir caught and secured.

Arwen, Legolas, Elrohir, Elladan, and Aragorn followed after Haldir who walked across the tight rope stretched over the wide rushing river.

Gimli crossed his arms, "No."

Two more arrows were shot across the river and Haldir's brothers caught and secured them. Orophin motioned is hand outward, and the hobbits and dwarf looked at each other. Two ropes to walk on, one to hold onto.

None of them were overjoyed at the prospect, but they managed. Rúmil and Orophin stayed behind, shooting the arrows back across the water.

The path they walked was clear and wide, the trees making a hall that no architecture could ever match for beauty or grandeur. The Golden Wood had no riches that could be sold, but they seemed to Frodo to be more beautiful than all the wealth Bilbo had ever told him story of under the mountains.

In his heart, Frodo knew he would trade the Ring around his neck to remain here.

Arwen and Aragorn drew away from the group, and they seemed to Frodo to be dancing with the tree trunks and the sunlight filtering down through the leaves. They spoke words in the Silvan tongue, almost singing to one another, and when Aragorn bent to pluck a flower from the ground, offering the wildflower to the Lady as if offering her the most costly of gems, her face lit up as the sunshine breaking through a knot of thunder clouds. Her expression was such that the forest around them dimmed in comparison, for nothing Frodo had ever beheld was as clear as the love he saw upon Lady Arwen's face. Love for the mortal man, kneeling humbly at her feet.

One thing Frodo knew for certain is that what Aragorn offered her was more than a mere wildflower.

Arwen caught the flower in a motion like a songbird dipping in flight. Laughing, her voice sweeter than the music of the river, she ran deeper into the forest. Aragorn rose to his feet and followed in her wake.

Sam blinked rapidly, "That was not how they behaved on our journey. And if I didn't know better, I'd say Aragorn was an elf after all, even if he can't walk on snow like the others."

Hadir's smile was wistful and his eyes sad, "This is where they fell in love, and the memory will wait here always for them, no matter how the years may change them."

* * *

Gimli did not know what to think of elves. On one hand, they were self-centred lilies who would impassionately watch the world burn, and on the other, they were extraordinary warriors and healers. Which of course, made them arrogant bastards.

And now he owed his life to Lady Arwen, whose beauty had been revealed to him not in physical form but in the seeing of the light that was her soul, her spirit.

Aragorn was one lucky bastard, the would-be King of Men who was more elfling than mortal man. And Gimli regretted to say it made him a better, more stable leader. A man who thought before he spoke, who acted when necessary, not before, not after. He reminded Gimli of how Thorin Oakinshield had been described to him, though by all accounts, Aragorn did not have Thorin's temper and no one could be  _that_  stubborn.

But still, that Gimli could make any comparison at all was remarkable.

And then there were the hobbits, strange cheerful folk, though Frodo had grown quieter day by day of their journey, sometimes sleeping more than any, sometimes sleeping not at all. Gimli had caught him staring off into space then seem to 'wake' and not know where he was for a moment.

"Does your heart not sing at the sight of this fair wood?" the princeling asked.

Legolas was the most annoying of the elves, but then he was King Thandruil's son, it was to be expected.

Gimli made a show of looking around at the trees. "Our halls beneath the mountain are more splendid," he said aloud, though internally, he had to admit the trees were lovely. Dwarves might choose to live beneath the ground, but they admired beauty in all its forms, metal and jewel were simply material that they could create beauty out of their own.

"There's a forge here," Legolas offered, "I've never seen it myself, but the armoury houses history of both our peoples."

Gimli looked at him suspiciously, but there was nothing but eagerness on the elf's face. Perhaps the prince had lived a sheltered life, because just then, he looked very young, hoping for someone to share the wonder of exploring a new place with.

Eventually, Gimli answered, "I would like to see it."

* * *

That night there was no feast, for all were tired. But Sam showed great interest in the ropes they had used on their path, asking Haldir the substance of the ropes as Sam was no stranger to craft himself.

This led to Haldir leading Sam and Frodo to a circle of crafters who shared with Sam many secrets and tricks that thousands of years upon this earth could grant. Frodo sat silently, enjoying the breeze passing through the trees and the soft voices of elves who were at ease with themselves and the world around them.

* * *

Arwen ran from him and she rejoiced at his footfalls that followed after her. He was louder than she, and though she was swifter than him, his longer legs gave him some advantage.

And of course, she wished to be caught. Arms entwining around her waist, he looked down at her in amazement. She smiled up at him, running her fingers through his hair. They both needed baths, but that didn't stop her from pulling him down to her.

"I love you," she said before kissing him with all the passion she had in her, kissed him in a way she would not have dared in front of her brothers.

Estel kissed her back, and he broke the kiss short of breath, "And I love you with all that I am or might one day be," then a shadow descended over his features, "But that doesn't have to mean you die with me."

In return, she said, " _I would rather live one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone."_

He took her hand in his, "If we survive this, if we marry and live a lifetime together, it would not just be us. I would not be leaving you alone. Until the day all light dies, every elf fled, there will always be those who love you."

She stepped into him, he let her pull her hands free. She rested one hand on his cheek, the other over his heart, "You are asking me to live without my heart." She stared into his grey eyes, her voice was soft, "Could you live without yours?"

"No," he said simply, "Your death would destroy me, Arwen. But I am mortal and I do not have the choice you have to make."

"It is no choice, Estel."

"But it is. You could know all our descendants, live on with your people, your brothers, your father, and grandparents. I have only you, Arwen. But even your absence, I would not take my own life."

"No, you would wait for time to cure you of your sorrows, but time has no such power over me."

He cupped her face in his palms, "Nothing truly lives forever, and we would find each other again, we are one heart-"

She completed the phrase in Silvan, "one soul." She shook her head, her dark hair rippling like a steady stream. "I cannot live with half a soul. I do not  _want_  to know a world without you having lived a life loving you."

"Want," he whispered, bending to press a kiss to her jaw, "is not the same thing as-"

She broke away from him, "I've made my choice. I have chosen a mortal life with you."

"But you still have time to change your mind."

She turned away, she was tired of this. Tired of Estel and her brothers asking this of her. This had not happened to this extent in the past. What had changed? Surely it could not be her simply uniting the Fellowship. But of course the last time, many more boats had already sailed West and she had not seen her brothers much in those years. Her father had certainly pressed her toward the sea as far as was possible from Estel, he resorted to trickery to convince her to depart.

It had only been her own vision of children that had altered her course.

 _Live and return to me,_  her father's parting words to her.

"Tears Undómiel?"

"Grandmother," she said in the Silvan tongue and wiped at the tears with the back of her hand.

Galadriel's took her hand, brushed her thumb under Arwen's eyes as she used to when she was little. Just as Arwen's mother had down once, long ago.

"Come," Galadriel instructed, "I have missed you since you returned to your father's house."

Arwen nodded and let herself be led by the hand to her grandparents' rooms.

Galadriel sat and directed her to lay down on the daybed. "Rest, we will speak when you wake."

Heavy-hearted, Arwen rested her head on her grandmother's lap. Her eyes closed and the familiar scents of Galadriel and this room and the trees around them swept her under.

When she woke, dawn was filtering through the leaves.

"Grandmother," Arwen greeted, smiling upward at that beloved face.

Galadriel's smile was bright, the expression that made her face somehow less perfect, yet all the more cherished. "How are you, child of my daughter?"

"As well as any could be on such journey."

And her Grandmother's expression turned knowing, "And yet it is not the trials of this voyage nor the fate of this war before us all that troubles your heart."

"My brothers and Estel wish me to live on after him."

"As does Elrond, Celeborn, and I, as does many of our people. You can not fault any for wishing for the stars to remain in the sky."

Arwen stiffened, "I had thought you approved of Estel."

"I do."

She sat up, "Then why suggest I break custom?"

"Because I know there will be much for you to live for. And perhaps, selfishly, because I wish to remain in Middle Earth."

"What does my life change in that?"

"It changes everything," Galadriel said plainly, "The Age of Men seems to be beginning, and as every boat departs West, the Age of Elves seems to be at its end. But it does not have to be so, our people could remain, ships can be returned to harbour."

"What are you not telling me?" Arwen pressed in turn. "What is it that has placed such haste upon your words? I could as easily make this choice a century from now as tomorrow, why do you question me so? What does my choose mean for our people?"

Galadriel sighed, and holding up her hand to Arwen, she saw a pale ring. A ring that she had never seen before but knew at once had always been there since Arwen herself was sired.

"When the One Ring is destroyed so too will the power fade from the rest. I can not keep this wood alive without this magic. Our people will be forced to leave, and most will choose to journey West over the sea. But Arwen, Undómiel, my Evenstar, your own strength is pooling, gathering like a mountain stream breaking from the stones that bind it to create a mighty spring. If you do not forsake your immortality, then you could rule here, and you would be the Light of Lothlorien."

Arwen shook her head, "Aragorn and I would live farther South."

"You need not live in the wood to grace it. The trees might pine for your return but they would wait, and perhaps their seedlings would follow you."

Arwen's mind was spinning, "How much can a few decades truly change?"

"The elves forget that though for them time is shortly endured and long enjoyed, that the rest of the races feel it differently. Much can happen in a year; say the Lady of Rivendell gathering a company to destroy a dark lord before he rises."

Arwen knew that Galadriel did not know her thoughts, no matter what she could gather or guess. She did not know them because Arwen had learned how to keep her thoughts her own, separate from both Galadriel and her father.

"You want me to save the elves of Middle Earth?" Arwen asked, her heart sinking.

"No, we do not need to be saved, we need to be kept. For you are the only power left that would motivate the elves to stay. Leaving West would not be our end, but it would be the end of the age of elves in this land. Tell me what shall I say to our warriors, do we fight so that we might leave this land without regret, or do we fight for our homes, our futures in this land? The choice is yours."

Arwen's spirits plummeted. Her brothers would leave, her father, her people, and as fond as she was of the humans, Estel's kin, they were not solely hers. She was caught no matter what she chose, mortality, immortality, either way, she would be parted from those she loved.

Galadriel wiped at her tears again, "There is no wrong choice, Undómiel."

The tears fell faster, "How do I make such a choice? As you say, going West is not the end of elves, I know that but- And Estel, I cannot-"

"Caring for another," Galadriel said gently, "is the hardest thing any can do in this world. To never care, is to never know pain."

"I love him," Arwen choked, the tears falling faster.

Her grandmother cupped her face in her hands, "And you have the strength to survive his passing. Arwen, my daughter, you are so much stronger than you know."

Arwen felt her heart shatter, she fell into Galadriel's arms sobbing as if she meant to expel the broken shards of that heart out.

Celeborn came then, rubbing her back, singing soft words of old to her, she took the comfort they offered and tried to draw strength from it.

For she could have chosen Estel over her father, but she could not choose her heart over her people.

The Lady of Lothlórien had asked her for light in the growing darkness, and she was Undómiel, the Evenstar and she could no more turn her back on her people than she could stop being Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían's daughter.

She was who she was, and she chose then and there to live on for as long as the stars allowed, even if it destroyed her.

* * *

Frodo noticed as soon as they came to the dinner feast that the Lady Arwen was upset. But she sat between Aragorn and her brother Elladan -who Frodo could now, with certainty, discern from his near-identical brother, Elrohir. Elladan was more forward, and Elrohir was more like his sister.

At some point in the last two days, Legolas and Gimli had become fast friends. Which was a relief, though he imagined once they were back on the road, their rivalry would continue. Even now, sitting cordially by one another, they were debating what sights in Middle Earth were the finest.

"What do you think of elves now, Sam?" Frodo asked in a low voice, it was perhaps a rude question at dinner, but Frodo was certain there would always be someone listening to them. It was only in a merry gathering their words might go unheeded.

Whispering Sam said, "They seem sad at times, though sad is the wrong word. They make me wonder if what you and I call 'sad' isn't altogether the wrong word, the wrong meaning for what they feel, yet they seem as young as children sometimes. Like hobbit children delighting in a rare snowfall. But I must say, they are different here in the East than the West. They seem at home in this wood. As if it were home to them, a true home, belonging here to these trees as much as the golden leaves belong to the trees."

Frodo nodded. "Home," he repeated. He looked around him, at the elves eating and singing, at the grace of them, and beyond them the memories that swirled, rising and falling like waves. He had loved Rivendell, with its falls and mountains, but he found the lights of Lothlórien fairer than anything he could have dreamed.

He wished more than anything to cast aside the Ring that weighed on his neck and remain here. He had no desire to go further South, to allow the Ring that seemed to be trying to eat his heart take a stronger hold of him. He feared it, more than anything he feared it and the whispers it emitted into his innermost thoughts.

But he had made a promise. Besides, Bilbo might belong in Rivendell now, but he had been offered the chance to stay as long as he liked by the Lord of Rivendell himself. But neither the Lady nor Lord of Lothlórien had made any such offers to Frodo.

Some things, he supposed, were just not meant to be.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam questioned.

Frodo shook himself, and he smiled at his dear friend, "Eat Sam, we have a long road ahead of us tomorrow."

Sam scrunched his nose, "Not a road, Master, I heard them all talking, we are taking  _boats._ "

Frodo patted his shoulder, "At least they aren't asking us to ride Oliphaunts."

"Wouldn't that be queer?" he asked in turn, "Doubt anyone would spot us on top of one. They are supposed to be as tall as small mountains. Do you think we will see any?"

"I hope not," Frodo said with fervour. Frodo feared the enemy, but he also feared the men of the South. Not all men were as temperate as those living in Bree nor as fair as Aragorn.

But for that night, Frodo pushed aside his worries for a time, knowing this would be his last respite for the months to come. Perhaps, it would be his last respite ever.

* * *

Aragorn removed his shirt and nearly jumped out of his skin when to warm arms wrapped around behind him.

"Arwen?" he whispered into the dark.

The arms around him tightened and she rested her head between his shoulder blades, he tried to subdue his shudder. Gimli's words came back to him, and he asked again, "Arwen?"

She dropped her hold, and he turned to see her in the dimness. Cautiously, he laid his hands on her shoulders. Internally, he laughed at his own hesitation, had he been twenty again, he would have given nearly anything to have Arwen alone in his rooms at night.

That feeling grew when in answer she laid her hands on his bare chest and pushed him back until he sat back on the bed.

He opened his mouth to protest but her next words stopped him cold, "I've made my choice."

He tensed, he didn't know what to think, though he truly feared only one choice she could have made, that she would leave him and travel West with her kin. He would not argue with her, but he would never love another again.

"You are mine Estel and I am yours, and I will be with you until the very end, but I have chosen to live. I will not forsake my immortality."

There were no tears in her bright eyes, but there were tears in his own. He pulled her down into an embrace and said the only thing he could, "I love you."

She held him, and they lay back on the bed together. "I owe you an explanation," she said, voice thick and tired.

"You owe me nothing," he said, running a hand down her silken hair, "you've already given me more than I had right to ask for."

She stretched out against him and sighed. When next she spoke her voice was more alive, more hopeful, "I had a vision, but it was more than vision, it was years of memory." She told him what she had seen, had lived.

And he finally understood her motives. Why she had risked so much because the future she described relied so terribly on circumstance and luck that it could not have been repeated if in any way altered.

When she finished, he said, "Much can change in a few decades, Arwen."

She rested her ear over his heart, "I know."

* * *

Elrohir and Elladan were caught trying to going out with Haldir's scouting group by their grandfather.

Celeborn put a hand on each of their shoulders, leading them to a clearing.

Haldir bowed to his Lord and smirked at the twins before fading into the wood.

"You have much ahead of you," Celeborn told them, "And yet you would go out the night before you depart."

"We're fine," Elladan said.

Elrohir disagreed, so kept his peace.

"You are needed at your full strength. You are blinded by your rage, Elladan."

This time Elladan was the one to say nothing.

Celeborn sighed, "Your quest takes you on a path that would destroy the greatest of evils in this world, and yet, that changes nothing for you."

"It will not bring her back," Elladan seethed, the cracks in his armour finally showing, "nothing we do-"

"Can undo the harm that was done," Celeborn said, his voice remorseful, but not grief-stricken. "What happened to my daughter, your mother, was not in any way your fault."

Elladan shook his head, "Had I arrived sooner…"

Elrohir grabbed his brother's forearm, "Had I taken my healing lessons with Father more seriously."

Celeborn sighed, touching the sides of his grandsons' faces, "Had we sent more guards, had Elrond been with her, had Galadriel and I not sheltered her from all and any harm, had we but cautioned her, taught her to travel with more care… perhaps she would never have been injured. Perhaps she might have been able to endure the corruption, the poison that sought to take her life. The what-ifs will always remain, as will the past remain unswayed by our regrets and belated wisdom."

Elladan's shoulder rounded, and he pulled away, "Nothing we do will ever be enough."

"No," Celeborn said, "Elladan, Son of Elrond, you are enough. And though your mother was not strong enough to endure in Middle Earth, her children were always enough. You are her pride, you three were the lights she could never have found fault in, even if the rest of the universe was subject to her sometimes fickle admiration."

"But we were not enough reason for her to stay," Elrohir said softly, cursing the words as they left his lips. There were good reasons why he and Elladan had avoided Lothlórien despite their sister forming deeper roots here. And one of those very good reasons were that their grandparents were nosy busy-bodies who could no more tolerate a hidden emotion or thought than they would tolerate a fire drake burning down their forest.

"I knew my daughter's heart, she left us because she could not stand her own weakness, could not bear being seen as diminished in the eyes of her love and children."

Elrohir stepped back, "She should have stayed, she was not diminished, she was hurt. We could have helped heal her. She would not be the same, but she was not a broken doll."

"Yet that is how she felt."

"And for that," Elladan interjected, "the enemy will pay."

Celeborn sighed, "If it is revenge that drives you, then there will be no respite for you. You will become a slave to throwing fuel onto that fire, a fire that will burn away the joy and laughter from your lives."

"So what would you have us do?" Elladan roared, his voice a rumble around them. "Would you have us retreat like the rest of our people? I would rather burn with this hatred, I would rather it be all I am than sit back and watch the world burn down around us. Had our people fought when these creatures first appeared on the roads, cut them back at the roots, then mother would never have been in danger."

"Then fight," Celeborn advised, "but not for your mother who waits in safety in the Undying Lands, but for your sister who leads you into peril. For the young halflings, who have taken up battles that are beyond their stature and their history. They risk all that they are for people who likely have not even heard a single tale of their folk. Fight for our people who prepare for war because our ladies, lords, and kings who will bid us into action. Fight for our futures, Sons of Elrond, because even the immortal have only the present to act on."

Elladan would not meet his grandfather's eyes, and Elrohir took his hand, leading him back to their rooms in their grandparents' home.

As wise as ever, Celeborn was correct, they needed that night of sleep.

* * *

The Fellowship's departure in the mourning a reluctant affair. None among them, aside for the twins, were truly ready to depart.

Galadriel gave them each gifts, among which was a new bow for Legolas, three rather the one strand of Galadriel's hair that Gimli had been commanded to ask for, a sheath for Aragorn, to both Arwen and Elrohir were given two flat satchels of healing herbs that could be worn against his skin, to Elladan an ancient blade that could be worn hidden along his leg, to Sam was given a length of rope and soil to spread back in his garden in the Shire, and finally to Frodo was given the Phial of Galadriel.

" _May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."_

And Frodo took it gratefully but wished it were not a light to be used in the dark, but a beacon to lead him back to Lothlórien, where his heart no dwelt.

He wondered if the Lady Galadriel could see the weakness in him, but if she did she neither consoled him nor chided him, neither spared nor revealed him.

They set out down the river, all were changed by that Golden Wood, and perhaps most strange of all, the Golden Wood had been changed by them. For Frodo's heart was not the only light that now burned for the people Lothlórien.

* * *

AN: Thoughts, reactions, requests, questions, or fire drakes from the North? Please?


	10. Where is Gandalf?

AN: For I much desire to speak with him.

REMINDER: Elves talking to elves are talking in elvish unless indicated otherwise.

Chapter 10 - Where is Gandalf?

Gandalf the Grey was travelling by cart and horse, not an easy feat when along the base of the Misty Mountains, but his good friends Bilbo and Frodo Baggins were having a birthday celebration and he had promised to come. It was to be a grand affair and all the children and others would be expecting fireworks in the Shire.

But he had time yet, and Gandalf rarely passed the chance to visit with his friends in Rivendell. With the growing darkness in the world, seeking out Lord Elrond was always wise.

Except when Gandalf reached the territory of Rivendell, he found the passes strangely lonely, as if some light that had always been there had retreated. The feeling grew the deeper into the realm. No sentries waited at the gates.

A cold terror swept over Gandalf then. He climbed off his cart, and called out in Sindarin, "Hello! Hello, is anyone here?"

None answered.

Panic seized him and holding firm to his staff, he entered the halls.

"Gandalf!" a strangely familiar voice called to him.

Familiar because the voice unmistaken belonged to none other than Bilbo Baggins. Strange because what in all Middle Earth was Bilbo doing in a deserted Rivendell.

Whatever had caused Rivendell to be deserted clearly was of no trouble to the old hobbit as he was smoking a pipe, smiling up at Gandalf. The table he was sitting at was laden with fresh food, which only furthered the wizard's confusion.

"Bilbo," Gandalf said, wrong footed, he stared down at him frowning.

"Welcome to Rivendell!" Bilbo said, spreading out his hand with a grin.

"What are you doing here? Where are the elves? Where is Lord Elrond?"

"Well, I've moved here," Bilbo said pleasantly, "Lord Elrond said I could stay as long as I like, which in this case will be until the end of my days."

Gandalf felt his frown deepen, "But I thought you weren't going to leave the Shire until yours and Frodo's upcoming birthday. That is what you last told me."

Bilbo poofed a smoke ring, "Aye, but Frodo went off on an adventure. So no birthday parties."

"Adventure? What adventure?"

Another smoke ring, "One of the utmost secrecy."

At this point, Gandalf was starting to lose his patience, "Where is Elrond?"

"He's gone," Bilbo said, his eyes twinkling.

"Where?" Gandalf ground out.

"To war."

The wizard's heart stopped, "With whom?"

Bilbo shrugged, "They went to Mirkwood."

All the blood drained from Gandalf's face, "The elves went to war with one another? But why… what could have possibly caused-"

"No, no," Bilbo said almost gleefully, "The elves are on good terms. Though I doubt King Thranduil will be pleased when he hears Lord Elrond's news."

Gandalf shook his head, "Bilbo, tell me plainly, where have all the elves of Rivendell gone and why?"

"They aren't all gone," Bilbo argued, "Some remained, those who do not have the heart to fight. And I already told you why; they went to war."

Rage filled the wizard then, "Bilbo Baggins! Tell me what has happened to move the elves to war."

Bilbo didn't so much cower as sigh deeply in disappoint, as if being put upon to end his story short. "The Lady Arwen of Rivendell entrusted me with a message for you."

Surprise cut his rage short, "The Lady Arwen, what could she possibly have to tell me?"

"Well, it started with a vision, you see. She travelled first to Mirkwood to ask Prince Legolas's for aid, then to the Lonely Mountain for Gimli, son of Glion's aid."

Gandalf blinked, "What?"

Bilbo waved him to silence, "Let me finish. Where was I, oh, yes, then the Lady returned to Rivendell, whereon her brothers Elladan and Elrohir joined her as well as Lindir and Usna, who then departed for the Shire. Strider joined them, because well, he and the Lady Arwen do have a history."

Gandalf stared at Bilbo, wishing strongly to hurry the hobbit along, but knowing that any interruption would only prolong this process.

"Anyways, they knocked on my door in time for supper, and we barely fit at the table. Which was surprising to me, you know, having once played host to thirteen dwarves and a wizard, but elves are among the big folk I suppose. After dinner, Arwen told us all her purpose. She, my lad Frodo, Frodo's friend Sam Gamgee, Lord Elrond's sons, Elladan and Elrohir, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood, and Gimli, son of Gloin set off on their adventure. Lindir and Usna accompanied me back to Rivendell."

"And what," Gandalf said deliberately, "was the Lady Arwen's purpose?"

"You remember that old ring I found on the way to the Lonely Mountain?"

Gandalf nodded.

"Well, it turns out, that was the  _One_  Ring, the Ring of Sauron. So their adventure is to go to the heart of Mordor and chuck the thing into Mount Doom."

Gandalf slowly sank back, sitting on the steps behind him, "They're… what? We need to hold a council."

"They already had a council, at the Shire, at Baggend, weren't you listening to me, Gandalf?"

He removed his hat and shook his head, "Frodo is the Ring Bearer?"

A sombre look finally dimmed Bilbo's amusement, "Aye, that he is."

"I suppose they are waiting on me to join them?"

Bilbo laughed, "Not at all, my dear old friend. It's been months since they left. I'd imagine they are past Lorien now. Of course, you  _were_  supposed to be the ninth in the Fellowship, but you turned up much too late, like usual."

Gandalf glared at him, "Where has Elrond gone?"

"Mirkwood, he seeks to drive the enemy out of the Woodland Realm and gather the dwarves as allies."

"I don't believe the finding of the One Ring would drive all the elves to war," Gandalf mused.

"No," Bilbo agreed, "But Elrond's people would follow him anywhere, and with Lady Arwen and the twins gone to Mordor, as well as Prince Legolas. How could he do less?"

Gandalf stood, "Then I must depart, if I have any chance of catching up to the Fellowship."

"But I haven't given you the Lady Arwen's message yet."

The wizard froze, "There's more?"

Bilbo nodded, "The Lady Arwen said to tell you that Dol Guldur and Moria have been taken by the enemy. And that there is a Balrog in the mines of Moria."

"That is ill news indeed."

"Let me finish!" Bilbo exclaimed, "Isengard has also been taken, Saruman the White has turned traitor and now serves the Dark Lord."

"No," Gandalf breathed, "no, that can't be. He is my friend."

Bilbo's expression lost its mirth, "I'm sorry, these are dark times we live in."

"I must go South of the Misty Mountains then. I must stop him, this is my task."

The hobbit nodded, "That seemed to be Lady Arwen's implication, as well as Lord Elrond's."

The wizard eyed him, "Is there anything else I should know?"

Bilbo looked thoughtful for a moment, "...hmm, I finished my book. Though I dare say I'll have to write another one once Frodo returns. Oh yes! And the blade that was broken has been reforged! The crownless shall again be king."

"Is that all?" Gandalf stressed.

Bilbo rose, "Yes, my friend, that is all, it was good to see you again. Do come back in victory."

The wizard sighed, and gave Bilbo a hug, before returning to his horse. He passed a young elf who smiled at him, clearly having heard their conversation.

It was at his horse that he found that Bilbo had indeed left things -or rather someones, out.

Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took were in the back of his cart sorting through fireworks.

They froze once they saw his approach, and then stood tall and called cheerfully, "Gandalf!"

Gandalf did not have the time to spare as he cut his horse free from the wagon, "You may have the fireworks, but you must use them under Biblo's supervision. I will turn you both into toads if you demolish Lord Elrond's home."

"Aren't you going to ask why we are here?" Pippin asked with a self-satisfied grin.

"I can guess," he said, mounting his house. "Farewell, and mind my words, only set them off under Biblo's supervision."

The two young hobbits waved to him, "Alright, bye Gandalf!"

Gandalf winced, wondering if Elrond would banish him from Rivendell once he returned. Perhaps he should have pushed the cart into the river.

* * *

The force of Rivendell had spread their warriors across the Old Forest Road all the way to the Celduin, or the River Running as men called it.

Any goblin or stray orc had been mercilessly cut down. They made camp and took guard on the Northern side of the road. Any enemy who snuck onto the road from the Southern side was shot down. Not a single elf warrior was killed or injured in this task, such was their force as well as the unpreparedness of the enemy.

A few Wood Elves who had been tasked as lookouts or to pick off spiders joined this watch. Glorfindel and Lord Elrond rode North to the Woodland stronghold with a smaller force. On their way, they killed every spider they passed.

And once they reached the Elvenking's Halls they were welcomed warmly. Dismounting his horse, Elrond strode into the halls with purpose.

King Thranduil himself stood in the entrance hall, "My Lord Elrond, I bid you and yours welcome."

Elrond bowed, "King Thandruil, I thank you."

"I hear you have amassed quite the force along the Old Forest Road. Am I to assume this is well tidings for the joining of our two houses."

Elrond and Glorfindel winced, sharing a look of sorrow between them. This was not going to go over well.

"May we beg a word with you?" Elrond asked, his heart pained by the near smile playing on the edge of Thranduil's lips.

Arwen had come on her own asking for the Prince of Mirkwood, Elrond knew what Thranduil had assumed. And knew the truth might very well break him.

Looking younger than Elrond could ever remember seeing him, Thranduil led Elrond and Glorfindel to his private study. The king poured them each a goblet of wine, he sat behind his desk, letting a true and rare smile cross his lips.

It was not a smile Elrond had seen since last Queen Meiriona had been at his side. That had been long ago, when Elrond and his wife, Celebrían, had come to the Woodland Realm with Arwen when she had been but a child, as Legolas had been, their births not so far apart. That had been a different time, when only joy had come from the close friendship between Queen Meiriona and Lady Celebrían, a friendship they had hoped would grow into love between Arwen and Legolas.

But when Celebrían had departed West, Meiriona had sailed with her such was their friendship that neither love for son nor husband would have retained her. Or perhaps Queen Meiriona's motives were more complex than that and Celebrían's choice had made her journey less lonesome, but the result remained the same. The relations between Rivendell and Mirkwood were never the same, and young Arwen and Legolas had seen little of each other except briefly much later in life.

As if following Elrond's memories, Thranduil said, "I had given up on any dream that our younglings would find each other." He held up his cup, "To many grandchildren and goodwill between our people."

He drank deep, but neither Elrond nor Glorfindel took so much as a sip.

Thranduil tilted his head at them, his pale hair slipping over his shoulder, "Is something wrong, Elrond?"

Elrond laid his cup on the table, and taking in a deep breath, he said, "Arwen… my daughter did not come to court your prince."

Thranduil's face hardened, though his body stayed relaxed, if more posed. He leaned back in his chair as if it were his throne, "Is that so, then praytell, what was it she wished from my son? Why did she come alone, and where is Legolas now?"

Elrond felt Glorfindel sit back in his chair, as if preparing for a blow. Elrond spoke, wishing it were not he who had to deliver such news, not him who has to watch the dawning sorrow that would be born in the King's eyes, sorrow that Elrond already bore for his own children.

"Arwen came alone because had I discovered her path and purpose, I would have stopped her. I know not where she nor Prince Legolas are now, but I know with whom they travel, and why, and to where they now mean to go."

"And that would be?" Thranduil asked, his voice was cold steel.

"Prince Legolas travels with my daughter, both my sons, the ranger Estel, a dwarf from the Lonely Mountain, and two halflings from the Shire to the South. Frodo Baggins, heir to Bilbo Baggins, bears the One Ring, the Ring of Sauron. They mean to go to Mordor, to unmake the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom," Elrond said gravely.

Thranduil's face had gone blank, his features nearly slack, and the silence in the room was perhaps the loudest Elrond had ever endured.

Thranduil's goblet slipped from his fingers, and the clatter of metal on stone and the spilling of burgundy liquid seemed to sunder that silence. And the King rose to his feet with a bellow of rage and grief.

Elrond's heart was broken anew.

The table with its candles, books, and trinkets crushed and tumbled. Guards came, the door to the study bursting open, their weapons unsheathed.

Thranduil turned on them, and said in voice so eerily calm, so restrained, that it sent a thrill of terror down Elrond's spine.

"Get out."

The guards needed no more instruction, disappearing from the doorway as quickly as possible, Glorfindel made his own exit, barely pausing to bow before shutting the door behind him. Hero of Legends he might be, but trading blows with the King of the Woodland Realm was to be avoided, for everyone's sake.

Yet Elrond stayed.

King Thranduil would have stood as tall and mighty as a statue, if there had not been a discernable tremble in his hands. They stood again in silence.

"How much," he finally said, "how much sorrow will you ask of me, Lord Elrond, before it is enough?"

Elrond said nothing, knowing too well the sorrows Thranduil spoke of, but unlike the King, Elrond had only his own short sightedness to blame.

"My son goes to Mordor?" the question was not that of a king, but that of a devoted father.

"As do mine," Elrond whispered, "as does my daughter."

"Legolas is my only son," Thandruil said, "my only-" he cut himself off.

The pain Elrond had seen on his face was swallowed down deep, somewhere nothing could reach but for the fires of wrath and the cold darkness of despair.

"They passed through Lothlórien not long ago," Elrond offered, "For now, they are well of mind and body."

"For now," Thranduil drawled coldly. "What has brought you, Lord Elrond, and your people to my realm?"

"The enemy seeks to reclaim Middle Earth. I seek to end every foothold they have gained, uproot every shadow they have come to dwell in. With your forces, we seek to give you back sovereignty over Rhovanion. The Age of Elves has not yet ended."

Thranduil eyed him with the impassionate yet deadly gaze of a serpent, "So the spiders and the goblins, and from there?"

"Dol Guldur," Elrond said, "We destroy the enemy at its source."

"At its source," Thranduil repeated, almost mockingly, "then shall you lead us to Mordor? Shall the elves fight orc and men alike?"

"I mean to ask the dwarves-"

" _The dwarves_ ," Thranduil cut him off, "the dwarves will not raise a hand to help any, they burrowed away in their pits and holes."

"The dwarves will come."

"I do not need nor want the dwarves to claim Mirkwood, or Dol Guldur for that matter."

"The dwarves may be slow to action," Elrond agreed, "So I will ask only for them to join us further South. If Estel can muster force from the West, then perhaps we can converge on the enemy from two sides.

"Us," Thranduil said too softly, "You assume I will go along with this-" he made a vague motion with his hand, "war."

Elrond stepped forward to stand mere feet before the king, dark eyes met bright, "Our children travel South, they fight where few would dare, can we do less than they?"

The king looked at the lord and said, "Your warriors shall follow my commands until victory is ours or until we are all dead."

Elrond bowed low.

* * *

AN: Thoughts, reactions for your author drowning in reality, pretty, pretty please?


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